


An Intimate Journey

by kenzieann27



Series: Covier Fics [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Gay Richie Tozier, M/M, Mentioned Eddie Kaspbrak, Mentioned Stanley Uris, Not A Fix-It, Original Character(s), Post-IT Chapter Two (2019)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24622513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenzieann27/pseuds/kenzieann27
Summary: A look at Richie's current life and how a breakup can lead to something much greater.I suck at summaries but it's finally here! This fic pairs with my super fun @ask-covier blog over on Tumblr, go say hi to Richie and Steve!
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Audra Phillips, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Steve Covall/Richie Tozier
Series: Covier Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1780261
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	1. Eddie Fucking Kaspbrak

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This fic has probably been the most exciting thing I've worked on in a while, mostly because it just felt so satisfying to write and finally put these ideas down somewhere. Enjoy!

Sitting alone in the hotel room on the rather disgusting blue carpet, Steve didn't know what to expect. He didn't know what to think, either. He simply stared ahead at the dark brown chair in front of him. Well, he was staring at his jacket, not the chair.

Well, he was staring at a jacket. He barely recognized it as his own at this point, knowing whose blood, sweat, and tears were ingrained in its thread. Certainly, it was not his own.

Still, staring at the jacket had calmed him out of his latest panic attack enough to understand fully the situation that was, unlike the jacket, not in front of him, but behind. Steve was tired; tired of the person he was, tired of the person he was terrified he would turn out to be. On this night, though, he was tired of the person that he would never be. A faceless name, a bodiless soul. Weddings were supposed to be celebrations of love, right? Today, to Steve, as he wiped his tears on the sleeve of his favorite dark teal suit, wasn't that at all. Instead, today was a harsh reminder that he was alone. That who he was to himself and who he was to everyone else were two different people; of course, this wouldn't have hurt so much if one of those people weren't actually a different person. A person that wasn't there. A person that was dragging him down into a place he swore he would never go back to.

Picking himself off the uncomfortable carpet, Steve continued to stare at the jacket. Even as he was picking up his two suitcases (they were staying in California for several weeks after the wedding, so Steve was required to pack quite a bit) and tossing his belongings into them, even as he pulled off his suit to put on something more casual- an old college t-shirt, black joggers, a rather ugly pair of white sneakers, and Steve's favorite Cubs hat that he had bought the day he first moved up to Chicago- he still glanced over at the jacket, questioning whether or not to take it with him.

"Okay, okay," Steve huffed through his nose as he walked over to the chair, his suitcases in tow. Reaching for the jacket, he hesitated, letting his hand fall back to his side slowly.

* * *

Admittedly, Steve hadn't been to a wedding in nearly a decade; the last time being the wedding of his oldest sister, Amy. Still, going to a wedding as a plus one and not a guest was new to him; especially when it happened to be one of the most talked-about weddings of the season.

Steve was suspicious of how Richie managed to get invited to Beverly Marsh's wedding, and usually scoffed at Richie's response of "I've known her since I was a kid, she's practically my sister." After all, his boyfriend had grown up in the middle of nowhere in Maine, of all places. There are pretty slim chances that he, a rather well-known comedian, grew up with the Beverly Marsh who just so happened to be a fashion goddess (in Steve's eyes, anyway).

The only complaint that Steve really had was the timing, as summer events proved to be an ordeal, especially a late August wedding in San Francisco that came just two weeks before Richie was due to attend a small awards ceremony in Los Angeles. Instead of flying back home to Chicago for those two weeks, they decided to stay in California and take a short vacation while they were there. Of course, being Richie's manager, it was less of a vacation for Steve, who was simply excited to be in California at all, it being the home of the entertainment industry, after all.

"Oh my God, who taught you how to tie a tie?" Steve laughed, looking over at Richie as they walked to the small venue. The wedding was a rather intimate one, being attended by about only fifty people in all. Even more of a surprise to Steve was not only the fact that Richie told him that he was a groomsman in the wedding, but that Richie had decided to tell him that fact just that morning as they were leaving their hotel. Stopping Richie, he reached up and untied his disaster of an attempt at a bow tie, fixing it for him slowly. "To be honest, I'm surprised Ben didn't just get you a clip-on tie. You know, the equally famous architect that you claim to have also grown up with in the middle of nowhere in a town that no one has heard of. Oh, let me guess, you're also walking in with the Queen."

"No, actually, I'm walking in with a high school English teacher. Would you like a picture with her? I think Patty would be fine with that," Richie smiled, though it faltered a bit when a small group of people passed them on the path to the main building. "Hey, I, uh… I didn't really explain who I was bringing with me, and they don't really- you get it, right?"

Steve glanced up at Richie, now a bit frustrated with their difference in height. "So, they don't know," he shook his head, looking back down at Richie's tie and patting it before stepping back. "I thought you said you've known these people since, like, forever."

"It's- it's complicated. I'm working on it, you know that," Richie said softly as they continued walking.

"No, it's fine, really. I just didn't know- I'm surprised, that's all," he sighed, kicking a pebble on the dirt path. "Why do you think they picked this place? I can't imagine this dirt road is good for all the high heels."

"I think Ben said they just wanted something small and they both love San Francisco, so it makes sense, I guess? They just bought a small house out here last fall, I think, to get away from the terrible New England winters."

"It is a beautiful city, I'll give them that," Steve looked around at the trees, kicking off his shoes as they finally reach a paved section of the path as they neared the building. "I love the snow, so I don't think I'd want to come out here to escape that. Even if the Pacific is right there."

"Yeah, what is it with you and the beach?" Richie laughed. "You don't seem like the type to enjoy the sand, especially not with a dog that loves to shake and get it everywhere in the house."

"I love Israel, so I am not going to respond to that," he smiled, envisioning their one-year old black labradoodle that was sadly left back at a kennel in Chicago. Taking in a breath as they reached the door. "I'll be sure to make dumb faces at you while you're standing up there, you know."

"Yes, because me trying not to move around for a ridiculously long amount of time isn't torture enough," Richie opened the door, motioning for Steve to enter first. "Then again, I am used to that with you, so…"

"You couldn't go five seconds without making a sex joke," Steve rolled his eyes. "I think that's a new record for you."

"You say five seconds, I feel five hours."

"You're disgusting."

* * *

By the time the reception came into full swing, Steve was relatively frustrated and felt like an outsider in this crowd. Though he was one to appreciate a black-tie event, Steve was feeling rather uncomfortable after the ceremony itself; though he did make good on his promise of making dumb faces at Richie, that was mostly due to him being tasked with sitting with a fussy three-year-old flower girl, as both of her parents happened to also be in the wedding party. Go figure.

Overall, it was a rather emotional ceremony considering it wasn't exactly Beverly's first wedding, as both she and Ben had written very sentimental and rather personal vows that not too many of the guests understood but still managed to shed tears after hearing.

Steve appreciated the reception the most, as it was in a quite open space, with plenty of room to roam around outside and take in the simple beauty that can be appreciated in an event such as a wedding. It wasn't until he was called over by Richie that he realized just how intimate a wedding could be, especially when the people getting married happened to be extremely well-known.

"No fucking way! Richie, is- that can't be who I think it is."

Steve smiled awkwardly as he walked over to Richie, who was sitting at a table with a small group of people. Most notably present at the table was the bride herself, who sat next to one of her bridesmaids, who sat next to Richie, followed by an empty chair, her maid of honor, and two of the groomsmen.

"Uh… hi." Steve looked at Richie expectantly, "Do you need something?"

"What? No, no," Richie pointed at the woman next to him. "This is Patty, remember? I was talking about her earlier."

"Oh, yeah, sure. I remember," Steve waved at her, who smiled and reached out her hand for him to shake instead. "Richie, I thought you said you weren't walking in with the Queen?"

"Such a charmer, that one," Richie laughed. "I want you to meet everyone. Patty's the Queen, we all know that. There's also Beverly, and that's Kay, Mike, and the ugly-ass man over here is Bill," he said, motioning to each person as he introduced them. "He's got a face fit for writing shitty novels. I had to introduce you to everyone 'cause Bev here's been dying to meet you."

"Oh my God, of course!" Beverly smiled, also reaching over to shake Steve's hand. "I've seen, like, all of Richie's shows, I remember sitting down one weekend and watching a bunch of them online. I remember that he talks a lot about this guy named Steve and all the dumb things you guys do at work and when you travel and stuff and I can't believe I'm actually getting to meet you."

"Oh, you don't really have to- the pleasure's all mine," Steve blushed, not entirely sure how to respond to someone that excited to meet him. "I'm a big fan of your work, too, I love all of your designs. I think you should make some things aimed at this guy," he looked at Richie, "since, well, you know."

"Hey! Floral shirts will never go out of style," Richie pushed him lightly, shaking his head. Steve just smiled fondly, looking at the other people at the table.

"Oh, hey, sorry about earlier with Jordan," Bill laughed softly. "Audra didn't really know what to do with her and Richie said you'd be fine with watching her, but I didn't really expect that she'd start crying like that."

"Yeah, she, uh… she kept pulling my hair," Steve scratched the back of his neck. "Which is hard to do since my hair is not exactly long, so it felt like she was just taking a chunk out of the side of my head. Cute kid, though."

"You- I'm sorry, how long have you known Richie?" Mike asked before glancing over at Richie. "I can't believe anyone would willingly work for this guy for longer than a week."

"Oh, shit, it's been… what, nine years now?" Steve looked down at Richie, who nodded slowly. "Yeah, nine years, I think. I was in college and-"

"College!" Kay choked on her drink. "Oh my God, how old are you?"

"Thirty-three. I'll be thirty-four in March."

"I'm just surprised at how much you look like our friend," Mike said, looking at the others at the table. "Oh, come on, I can't be the only one who thinks he looks like Eddie."

The table went silent, though Patty and Kay joined Steve in their puzzled expressions. The rest of the people at the table seemed to unanimously turn to look at Steve. Well, all except for Richie.

"I- yeah, I get that a lot. I mean, I guess I just look like a lot of people," Steve stammered. "I've just got one of those faces, I think."

Steve had known that Eddie would have come up soon enough, expecting that after Richie mentioned that he had known most of these people since he was a kid. He hadn't told Steve a lot about Eddie, only that he was someone that Richie had a crush on many, many years ago and that he had died a few years ago; Richie wasn't too keen on talking about the Great Maine Debacle of 2016, either, so Steve believed that Eddie's death had something to do with that. Steve knew that he was similar to Eddie, Richie himself had mentioned that on rare occasions, though Steve simply ignored the statements out of respect; mostly respect for himself, as he knew an altercation would arise if he did linger on the subject too long.

Still, in Steve's mind, he couldn't talk about Eddie now without mentioning the way Richie felt about him, and since they didn't exactly know that Richie was gay, he wasn't sure of how to respond to the mention of him. And the very clear fact that his fingers were becoming restless against the side of his wine glass didn't help much in his case, either.

"So, you've known Richie for years before we all got back together," Beverly stated, though it sounded more like a question than a comment. She turned to Mike, a knowing expression appearing on her face. "That makes sense, doesn't it? I mean, it's true for everyone. We all tend to just… we like certain qualities in people, even if we don't know it."

"Even if we don't know what?" Ben asked, walking up to the table with a smile on his face. He handed a glass of water over to Beverly, who smiled widely and thanked him.

"Oh, nothing- took you long enough to get back to the group there, Haystack," Richie pushed his chair back suddenly, causing Steve to jump back. "I think I'm gonna go for a walk and smoke, anyone wanna come with?"

In fact, a lot of people at the table wanted to go with Richie, though most went for the walk more than for the smoke, as neither Patty nor Mike cared for it; this left only Steve, Beverly, and Kay at the table, though Kay excused herself soon after their departure to find a bathroom.

"She's not very good at holding her liquor," Beverly laughed. "So, good sir, tell me about yourself. Might I be invited to the wedding of Mr. and Mrs. Stephen anytime soon?"

"Oh, no, that's not really… don't hold your breath waiting for that one," Steve frowned, noticing that the chair he had taken (Richie's, naturally) was uneven, having a slight wobble. "I mean, I'd be honored if you wanted to come to my wedding in the future, but it's pretty unlikely that there'd be a 'Mrs. Stephen' since I'm gay, but I will totally take you up on that offer if, uh, if I get married."

"The honor would be all mine, really," Beverly waved it off before leaning over in Steve's direction. "I do think that Sam over at table four was checking you out, though. He's one of my co-workers, a bit of a dork though."

"Oh, I, uh… thanks, but I'm actually taken at the moment," Steve panicked, not realizing that Beverly would most certainly ask about his relationship. "But it's not, like, a serious thing, I guess. He's just, uh, he's a lot."

"Yeah, plus it's hard being in a serious relationship when you're not home a lot of the time," she nodded, taking a sip of her water. "What's this guy like? Do I have to fly over to Chicago and knock some sense into him?"

Steve laughed, picking up his glass off the table. "No, you don't- he's, uh, it's complicated. I want to do a lot of stuff since, y'know, I'm young. I love my job and being recognized for that, but at the same time, I think I'm being held back a bit? Like, he never wants to do anything big or special. He's fine with just staying at home and watching some dumb show on Netflix, but I just… I want to go out and live, you know? And, like, I'll tell him this stuff, I'll say I want to go out to a bar or I want to go see a movie or something but it's always just 'oh, I'm tired,' 'oh, let's just stay home,' shit like that."

"Wait," her face turned into one of puzzlement as she sat her glass of water down on the table. "Do you live with this guy? I thought you said it wasn't a serious thing."

"Well, I mean, as you said. I'm only really home for, like, maybe seven or eight months out of the year. The rest of the time I'm just traveling back and forth and working and stuff, so it's not really as serious as it would be if I was there all the time."

"I don't mean to snoop or anything, sorry." Beverly looked around, waving goodbye to a few guests who were on their way out. "It just seems like a weird situation. He should understand you more, or at least listen to you better. You have a job that's just not the typical nine-to-five office job that a lot of people have."

"I try talking to him, but it's complicated. Our relationship is just strange," he sighed, looking down at the table as he thought. "He's not exactly- I think he's embarrassed by me sometimes. I know it's not true, obviously, but I just can't help but think that when he never wants to go out. He isn't, like… he's not out yet. And it's hard because I am- well, I'm about as out as I can be. I don't really deny it like, uh, like a lot of people do. And that's okay, I'm not trying to say that not being out is a bad thing. Just, personally, I wish things were easier for me."

Beverly nodded slowly, taking in the things that Steve was admitting to her. She put her hand down on the table, tapping her fingers as she spoke. "I think… you do remind me of our friend Eddie, if Richie's ever talked about him or anything." She paused when he shook his head, but quickly continued, "That's not a bad thing! Eddie was a great person, probably the bravest person I've ever known. He just- Eddie had a habit of caring about people that maybe didn't deserve it, I think. His mother or his wife, from what I've heard, never really cared so much about him as much as they cared about what he was, if that makes sense. He was just something for them to care about and look after, something that needed them. But Eddie just… he always had this way about him, like deep down, he knew he was more than that, like he deserved more than that. I guess what I'm trying to say is that maybe this relationship isn't the best thing for you if you feel like that," she leaned back in her chair. "Life is too short for you to be stuck in a relationship with someone who makes you feel like you are never good enough for them."

Steve could feel his heart pounding as she spoke, not focusing much on anything other than the person she was mentioning. "I don't really- I'm not Eddie."

"No, of course not. It was just an example, I guess. I probably could have talked about myself and it would have made more sense, sorry," she laughed. "Mike just mentioned him, so I guess he was on my mind."

Steve nodded as he glanced over at Beverly before focusing back on his glass on the table before picking it up to take a drink. "Rich doesn't really talk about him that much. He's only mentioned him a few times."

"Yeah, that sounds like Richie, all right. It was hard for him when Eddie died. I mean, shit, it was hard on all of us, but- but it was different for Richie. It felt like he just wanted to pack up and leave right when we got back to the hotel. He and Eddie were close, they were always teasing each other as kids." Beverly chuckled, motioning towards Steve. "I mean, it makes sense why Mike brought him up. The way Richie is with you is just like how he was with Eddie."

Steve hadn't noticed when the thin glass broke under his grip, nor did he really notice when his grip started to tighten around the glass to begin with. What he did notice, however, was the sound of Beverly cursing in surprise at the ordeal.

Well, Steve guessed that it was cursing. He couldn't really focus on what she was saying, too lost in his own mind at that point to make out the things she was trying to say to him.

"I- I'm fine," he managed to say, standing up from the table. 'I'm just- I'm fine."

"Shit, just stay here, okay? I'll go get you a towel or something," Beverly said, walking away from the table and towards the building.

Shaking his head, Steve didn't wait for Beverly, bumping into a few people and stammering out an awkward apology to each of them as he made his way to the dirt path that he walked up on earlier. He was nearly crying at this point, mostly out of embarrassment than out of hurt; he didn't bother wiping his tears, his arms feeling too heavy as his hands shook at his sides. He could see the small parking lot as he continued to walk, though slowed down when he heard someone approach from behind him.

"Hey, is- Steve, are you okay?"

 _Richie_.

Steve didn't respond, but continued to walk towards the parking lot, mentally screaming at Richie not to follow him.

Of course, Richie followed him anyway.

"Hey, what's-" Richie scrambled to catch up to where Steve was on the path, reaching out and grabbing his sleeve.

"No!" Steve turned, pulling his arm away and taking a few steps backward. "J-just- don't- no," he continued walking despite his obvious struggle to breathe, shaking his head and closing his eyes as his tears kept falling.

"What are you doing?" Richie followed a few steps behind, keeping his voice calm despite the worrying situation in front of him.

"You- you fucking- no," he stopped walking, turning towards Richie and shaking his head before continuing onward. "No."

"Steve, please, just- you're freaking yourself out, okay? I'm sorry I grabbed your arm, I forgot that you hate that when you're freaking out. Please just- you're going to give yourself one of your, uh…" Richie waved his hand in the air, trying to remember the term for when his boyfriend started, well, getting like this. "Breathing- panic things? Panic things, or whatever. Just calm down, yeah?"

"I- I'm tired and I- I want to go home," Steve mumbled, taking in short, shaky breaths as he walked.

"Oh, uh, okay," Richie paused. "Okay. I'll just drive you back to the hotel then, no problem. I'm sorry that you-"

"No!"

Steve stopped, turning around to shove Richie backward. Putting his hands up in defense, Richie stared at the shorter man in front of him silently, listening as he struggled to breathe.

"Do not- don't fucking- don't… just apologize for them! A-apologize for you! Don't- don't fucking- I'm fine!"

Richie blinked, confusion spreading across his face. "I don't-"

"I'm not- I'm just your s-stupid fucking- I just work with you! Fucking manager! That's all- that's all I fucking am!"

"Steve, please, can we just- can we talk about this later, please?" Richie took a step forward, eyes wide as he watched the man in front of him fall apart. "Just- not now, please."

"I- I don't fucking- nine fucking years we've done this- this shit. I don't- not just work, never just- I'm always just the fucking manager when you want me to and I just- I-"

"Just- just let me take you back to the hotel. You can calm down or take a shower or a nap or whatever and we can talk about this later, okay?" Richie lowered his voice, taking another step forward despite Steve taking a step back. "Please, babe?"

"Don't fucking- don't 'babe' me here. Where- where no one else is," he reached to shove Richie again, but hesitated, instead running his hands through his hair. "I- I want to be out, I… I see those stupid- stupid couples all fucking day and I just- I want that. I want people to know, Rich," he said softly, tears rolling down his face. "I- please, I'm so tired. I'm tired of fucking going around and just- I don't want to hide anymore, Rich, I want people to know. I just- I want to- that we-"

"Okay, okay. I don't- just breathe right now, okay? You're scaring the shit out of me," Richie glanced down, shaking his head. "Your hand is bleeding."

Steve pulled back when Richie reached out to grab his hand, holding it against his stomach. "It's fine. I- I'm fine."

"Yeah, you said that last time, too," Richie sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes. "I don't know what you want me to do here, Stevie. You say this, like… you are out. You don't have to want that, that is who you are."

"I'm not!" he cried, the pain from his hand starting to reach him. "I'm- you're not, Rich. You're not so I- I can't. You're just- you're stuck in your fucking closet with- with," he shook his head, unable to find the words. "You are not taking me back there. I- I can't go back there. I've done- I've been there, I've… you're stuck there and it's- I'm not."

"It's hard for me, okay? You don't know what I've been through just to be able to- to tell myself who I am. It's not that simple."

"Fuck you."

"Yeah, okay, we've established that." Richie rubbed at his eyes again, though this time was to wipe away a few tears. "I know I'm, y'know, me. There's just a lot that I can't really tell you."

"I'm just- I'm not good enough, am I?" Steve shook his head, exasperated at what he was being told after spending years of his life trying to forge some sense of a normal relationship. _I'm, y'know, me_ might as well have come out as _I'm, y'know, never going to change_. "It's just- with them you are a different person. That's- that's not Richie. The Richie I know- fuck, I don't know Richie at all."

"C'mon, that's not true. I'm- I'm me, you know this. You know me more than they do."

"No- no, it's- it's true," he huffed, taking in a short breath that was more of a wheeze than anything else. "They don't even- they didn't fucking know who I am at all. Just your stupid fucking stories. You- you fucking lie and I- I put up with that shit. Just- just fucking say boyfriend already! Stop fucking- stop turning me into some fake shitty girlfriend character when I'm- I'm right there and I can't fucking do anything about it! It's- I'm just some joke and I- I don't want it anymore. I'm- I can't do it," he turned, taking in a shaky breath as he continued to walk.

"Please- please don't go," Richie stayed where he stood, legs unable to move under the weight of the situation. "Please, just- I don't… not like this. I don't want this to be- please."

"Give- give me one reason," Steve slowed to a stop but stood facing away from Richie, eyes focused through the tears on the parking lot, which stood only about a hundred yards away.

"I… I…" Richie stammered, incapable of finding the right words to say, afraid of scaring off the man in front of him who was pulling away so quickly, too quickly. "I was going to propose."

Turning back to look at Richie in order to find the lie in his statement, Steve was surprised to find that, well, Richie was telling the truth. "I don't-"

"Not now, I mean," he laughed nervously. "When we went, uh, hiking back in March? I mean, of course you'd remember that, you almost- never mind," he shook his head, trying to form a coherent sentence. "That's why I- I wanted it to be perfect. But after what happened, I just… I needed time. You're-"

"Bev- Beverly said that life is too short to be with someone that makes me feel like- like I'm not good enough," Steve stated, looking down at the ground, trying to calm himself enough to say what he needed to say next. "I don't care about what you wanted to- to do. You didn't, you- you hesitated. You could have but you didn't."

"What, did you want me to do it while you were bleeding to death?" Richie scoffed. "In a _hospital room_ , yeah, that's good."

Steve took in a short breath, fidgeting with his hands as he looked back up at Richie. "Would you have hesitated if it were him? If- if I were Eddie, would you be happier?"

"I…" furrowing his eyebrows, Richie slowly shook his head, knowing that they both understood his hesitation at an answer, knowing they both interpreted the hesitation as a confirmation. "I'm sorry, okay? I-"

"I can't- I can't believe you," Steve stared up at Richie, who was slightly taken aback at Steve's newfound anger. "Beverly was- she was right, I don't- I'm never good enough for you! I'll never- I'm not him, so it's just- just wasting my time, right? I'll never be good enough just because my name doesn't happen to be Eddie _fucking_ Kaspbrak. I'm just- I…" he fished the keys to their rental car out of his pocket, holding up his hand in a halfhearted wave as he turned. "I- I'm- just… bye."

* * *

Richie regretted that moment, watching as Steve walked away, watching as their car pulled out of the parking lot, watching as his life changed in an instant. Once again, right? Once fucking again.

Richie Tozier stood helpless as the person he loved left him alone. Again. Again. Again.

He knew this would have happened eventually, and as he was able to wipe his tears on his short journey back to the reception, he might have felt angry at Eddie, too. He understood Steve's reasoning, his questions, his fears. Richie understood them because they weren't entirely untrue. He had tried to bury his feelings for Eddie in the past three years, he had tried to simply ignore his existence at all; like nothing ever happened.

But then Steve came along on the first of June in 2017, beaten and bloody, and everything seemed to change. And it wasn't until now that Richie understood why. It wasn't because Steve made things better. It was because Eddie did.

Those feelings came forth like water when a dam bursts; not cracks, per say, but as if it ceases to exist altogether. Those feelings for another person clouded their relationship from the minute it began to, well, the moment it ended. And Richie didn't know who to blame for that. He should have loved him, told him he loved him, felt deeply in love with him, but Richie wasn't sure who he was loving.

Eddie faded, after a while, after Israel came into their lives. For their first anniversary, Steve suggested they adopt a dog from a nearby shelter; Richie was apprehensive at first, though grew to love that shy ball of fur all the same. And for a brief, brief moment, things felt okay.

Richie pushed these things out of his mind as he reached the reception once again, finding his way over to his previous table. Bill, Mike, and Beverly sat at the table again, though Bill stood up once Richie approached them, stifling a yawn as he greeted Richie.

"You're leaving?" Richie asked, giving Bill a thumbs up when he said he was. "Good, okay- do you think you can drop me off at my hotel? I'll pay you or whatever, it's fine, I just- yeah.

"Oh, sure, no problem," Bill nodded. "Audra just texted me and said she and the girls are getting ready to go to bed, so I figured that I'd probably start heading back, too."

Beverly stood up, walking over to give Bill a hug before turning to Richie. "Hey, you haven't seen Steve anywhere, have you? I've been looking all over but I'm not sure where he went."

"Yeah, that's sort of why I need a ride back to my hotel," Richie sighed, picking up his jacket off the back of his chair. "He just, uh- he said he wasn't feeling too well."

"Oh, well, tell him I hope he feels better soon," Beverly nodded, giving him a hug goodbye before waving them off. "See you guys later, and all of that. Drive careful."

The drive back to Richie's hotel was awkward, to say the least. Bill could sense the tension in the car, though he could tell something was wrong during their mostly silent walk back to his car. He glanced over at Richie, who had taken off his glasses and was rubbing at one of his eyes.

"You, uh, you okay over there?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," Richie sniffed, pushing his glasses back onto his face. "I think I just had an eyelash or something in my eye. Thanks for giving me a ride, by the way. I could have gotten an Uber or something but, obviously, you are way more fun to talk to."

Bill sighed as he slowed the car down to a stop at the red light. "Richie, you know that you can- you know it's okay to tell people stuff, right? Especially people you've known since you were, like, ten."

"I haven't known anyone that long, Billiam," Richie turned to look at him. "I've missed out on thirty years of your guys' lives and shit. If you take that into account, I've really only known you for, like, seven years."

"The point is that we're all friends, right? You can talk to us about stuff," Bill said flatly, speeding up as the stoplight turned back to green. "I mean, I get how it is living a ridiculous life where people think they know everything about you. But it helps if you have friends that you can tell that stuff to, you know?"

"Bill, seriously, I'm fine. I just…" Richie sighed, looking out the window. "It was weird when Mike brought up Eddie, that's all. People don't usually bring up dead friends at weddings."

"I don't think he really meant anything by it. He was just talking about how, uh, your friend-"

"Steve. And he works for me, like, that was the whole- never mind."

"Mike was just saying that he's a bit like Eddie, that's all," Bill glanced over at Richie, who nodded. "I think everyone sort of noticed that, too."

"Yeah, I mean, I guess. I've known him a lot longer than I've known any of you guys. Well, except for Stan. I've known him just about as long as I've known Stan, and that's just because I met him in, like, preschool." Richie paused, taking a breath before he continued. "Bill, how… like, when you got back home, what was it like with Audra?"

Bill frowned, moving his head as he thought. "Oh, uh… I guess it was weird at first. I think- what do you mean?"

"Like, to go back after everything and have to act like everything is okay. Because, like, she was the same person, but," he shook his head. "I don't know."

"No, no, that makes sense. I get what you mean, and yeah, it was weird to try and explain things to her in, like, a way that wouldn't make her think I went completely insane."

Richie nodded, checking his phone before sighing and turning to Bill. "I don't think we've ever really talked about it, but like… how did- shit," he took a breath, trying to collect his thoughts enough to phrase his next second correctly. "With Eddie, like… you were his best friend- growing up, I mean. So, how did- how did you deal with that?"

"Oh, that's… it was hard, of course. I guess I haven't ever really sat down and thought about all that stuff. Not because- I wanted to just focus on the good things, I guess. We've lost a lot, but… we're together, right? If it weren't for that, we wouldn't be here now. We would've gone the rest of our lives without knowing about each other."

"Would we have been happier if it were that way?" Richie looked over at Bill, who was frowning.

"Losing Eddie was like- it was like losing Georgie again. I miss him a lot, just- I remember his laugh, mostly, when I think of him. He had such a weird laugh that would turn into an ugly snort since he scrunched his nose up so much," Bill recalled fondly. "But I'm not sure if I would have been happy missing out on being with you guys again. It's- I don't know, man. Would you have been happier?"

"I was happy where I was, all things considered. That's just because my life now is exactly how it was back then, just… just me and Steve against the world, being jackasses in every city we went to. The only real difference now is that I have more friends. You guys, like… you're getting married, having kids."

Bill nodded as he pulled into the parking lot, taking a moment to turn and talk to the lost man next to him. "If you're happy now, then isn't that all that matters? We all have different paths, like, no one said you need to have a wife and kids to be happy. Yeah, I know what happened sucked and it fucking hurts more than anything to think about how it was just- I led you guys into that and I have to live with that, but that's not my life anymore, you know? I just have to think about my life moving forward and what I want to do with it. I miss Eddie and Stan, too, we were- it was just the four of us and now it's just me and you. But we still have Ben, we have Mike, we have Beverly. You have me and I have you, Richie, we- things are okay. We're okay and that's really what matters."

"I- I know, Bill. I didn't mean to bring it up, like, the heavy stuff," he smiled half-heartedly. "It's just been a long day, I guess. Just… I'm just tired, I think, we all are, right? I hope I'm not the only one tired here, 'cause I don't want to be the old man in the group just yet."

"You'll always be the senile old man in our group, Richie," Bill laughed, leaning over to give the taller- much taller- man a hug. "And since you are a senile old man, you should be getting to bed so we can get breakfast tomorrow morning, yeah?"

"Does noon count as morning, Denbrough?" Richie asked as he opened the door to step out of the car.

"Fine, we can get _lunch_ ," Bill rolled his eyes, laughing through his annoyance. "You're buying, though. You get the senior discount, right?"

* * *

During the elevator ride up, Richie found himself having time to think about what he would have to come to terms with when he opened the door to his hotel room. At best, he figured he'd see Steve in bed, sleeping off their argument as if it never took place. At worst, well, there wouldn't be much of a hotel room to return to.

He appreciated the talk with Bill, though Bill didn't exactly say what Richie needed to hear; not even Richie himself knew what he needed to hear. It was hard to receive advice from Bill Denbrough, though; Bill hardly understood what kind of life that Richie led, no one fully knew, but his words were still comforting. Still, he couldn't really take those words to heart, not when his heart was unsure whether it was about to be broken. Again.

Knocking softly on the door, Richie wasn't entirely surprised when it went unanswered. _Okay. Either he's too mad to answer, too asleep to answer, too busy to answer, or too gone to answer_. He left a few more unanswered knocks before reaching into his pocket for his keycard, taking a breath before using it to unlock the door and enter the room.

"Steve?" Richie called softly, unable to see anything with the lights off. Though he saw a lumpy shape on the bed, Richie turned one of the lights on anyway, sighing when he saw the balled-up comforter that was left there. There was no sign of the younger man, with the only discernible evidence that the man was there at all was the fact that there was nothing of him left.

Well, not nothing.

Richie managed to croak out Steve's name once more before moving over to the bed, sitting on it for fear that his legs would no longer support him. Taking off his glasses to wipe his bleary eyes, Richie looked up to notice a faint colorful blob laying on the otherwise bland brown chair. He allowed himself to cry silently in the lonely room when he replaced his glasses, finally understanding what the blob's true form was.

It wasn't until an hour later that Richie finally went to sleep, spending most of that hour staring ahead at the brown chair and the teal jacket that rested gently on it.


	2. Past Presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look back on some of the more formidable years in Steve's and Richie's lives.

Steve didn't know when it first began, didn't know when he _wanted_ it to first begin. He could tell himself it started when he first met his new neighbor, or when they sat next to each other in science class, or maybe it was when they first started working together. Something became clear to him, though, when he had his first kiss on a clear night under the stars in the parking lot in front of their beloved ice rink. Well, it was beloved by Steve. Lonnie didn't care much for that job, having to sit behind a counter full of smelly ice skates all day. Mostly, Steve loved his job for those nights spent with Lonnie, which had escalated from quick kisses here and there to Lonnie teaching him how to ice skate, something that didn't seem very useful to a theater nerd from California and a quiet kid from Texas.

"C'mon, dude, you said you want to go to Chicago, right? Well, they get snow up there. You don't want to look like some jackass when you fall every time your feet hit a patch of ice," Lonnie would laugh, watching as Steve struggled to maintain his balance even though he was holding onto Lonnie's arm as if it was the only thing keeping him from falling flat on his face. "I should be charging you for these lessons, I would be making bank with the way you're making progress."

"Oh, shut up," Steve blushed, embarrassed at the way he was holding onto the taller teen.

It was hard to say what exactly Steve and Lonnie's relationship had become since they had first kissed two months ago. Since Lonnie was able to get the cast off his foot, he seemed to have wanted to do much more with his shorter friend, anything from seeing boring indie movies at their local movie theater to going to the beach, despite Steve's frustration with the unbearable heat. Still, moments after work were the calmest, as they were able to simply enjoy each other's company without the oppressive crowds bringing them down. Some days, the best days, they would lay down a blanket and lay next to each other on the ice, sharing a small snack from the snack bar as they chatted about everything they loved and everything they hated. On rare occasions, though, they'd wander into the frightening territory of talking about each other.

"Do- do you think you'll miss me?" Steve had asked, looking over at Lonnie, who simply shrugged. "I mean, like, when you're in California. I know you'll be in college and stuff, so I don't really expect you to think about me that much, but… I know I'll miss you."

"Of course I'll miss you," Lonnie smiled sadly, reaching his hand over to grab Steve's, holding it as it shook from the cold. "I don't imagine there are many pasty-ass nerds out there in California, so I'll have to visit so I can remember that there are people like you in this world."

"You're Irish, Lonnie, I don't think that you're supposed to be that tan," he laughed. "Thanks for promising to visit, though. I know your family is going to miss you. It's probably hard for them to have to give you up, too."

"I'm excited to meet my real mom, though," Lonnie smiled. "When I picture her, I think that she's a lot like me. I hope she likes me."

"She'll love you, I'm sure," Steve moved over on the blanket, leaning his head against Lonnie's shoulder. "Of course she'll love you."

It was nice, to Steve, looking back on their relationship for what it was; just two idiot kids running around in the summer of 2003. Well, not exactly kids, as Lonnie was leaving to go to San Diego for college in the fall. Give it another year and Steve himself would be heading up to Chicago for college and, well, the rest is history.

Like with most parties in his life, Steve found himself in the bathroom. This time not so much to clean a prized button-up shirt but rather to take a breather from the crowd. The situation didn't fully set in yet, this being Lonnie's last day at home before embarking on his journey back home to California tomorrow and starting school in just a few days. Though Steve was grateful for their time together all summer, he did admit he was a bit scared of what this newfound path would bring; Steve and Lonnie had lived across the street from each other for just over five years now, and neither one was really sure what would come from being apart. Shaking his head in an attempt to shake away these thoughts, Steve then washed his face, looking up at the mirror to see his reflection; to most people, all that appeared was a rather average-looking teenager (if not a bit shorter than most) with coal-black hair and big brown eyes that were, today, hidden behind a cheap pair of glasses that were only worn on days that he didn't particularly feel like wearing his contacts.

To Steve, though, what he saw was a very lost person. A person in the house of someone he didn't exactly know; of course, it belonged to the Green family, though who he didn't really know was none other than Lonnie Byrne himself. What was he to Steve exactly? Steve himself didn't know what to refer to Lonnie as anymore; _friend_ seemed too mild, though _boyfriend_ wasn't entirely correct either, especially since Lonnie never referred to Steve as such. Moreover, Steve wasn't sure how he felt about Lonnie; from the moment they met, Steve could tell that _something_ was there. However, he wasn't sure just what that _something_ was as much as he wasn't sure what it had turned into the moment they had kissed. Steve just needed a bit more from Lonnie to determine what that feeling was; he wanted it to be love more than anything, simply because he couldn't imagine love being anything more complicated than the feeling he had when his mind wandered into Lonnie territory. Of course, this was complicated further by the fact that Lonnie would be on a plane to California tomorrow afternoon and wouldn't return until Christmas break.

Lonnie didn't exactly seem to mind the change, having thrown a small party with some of his livelier friends from school who were also dreading their first days of college life. Being the youngest one there, of course, Steve was a bit overwhelmed, not sure how to relate to the older students when he wouldn't be starting his last year of high school for another few weeks.

Still, he was a bit reassured seeing some of the pictures that Lonnie's family had hung up on the wall leading down the stairs, the most recent one being of Lonnie and his parents after he had graduated. Affectionately, Lonnie referred to his parents mainly by their first names, Olivia and Matthew; though being with them for the past fifteen years of his life, Lonnie never really felt too comfortable with his family here, always thinking about his mom back in San Diego despite having no memory of her (the Greens were rather open with Lonnie, never hiding the fact that he was, in fact, adopted). He stated this was mostly due to Olivia and Matthew already having two sons by the time they adopted Lonnie as well as the fact they had another daughter five years after that. Again, Lonnie never felt too connected to Charlie, Andrew, or Erin, but he did appreciate that the Green family never treated him as if he was a complete stranger living in their house. The biggest thing Lonnie did appreciate was their willingness to visit Matthew's brother in Louisiana that rather cloudy August day, giving Lonnie time to himself in a rather chaotic household.

Of course, with Steve's parents across the street, they couldn't get up to too much trouble.

"Are your friends this weird at all parties?" Steve asked, smiling as he stepped over a snoring teenager as he made his way to the kitchen. "It's not even midnight yet and they're all sleeping."

"It's just been a crazy week, I guess," Lonnie laughed as he jumped up to sit on the counter. "Everyone's been working and getting ready for school and stuff. Lucky for you, I got some nice scholarships, so I didn't have to work myself to death all summer."

"Why am I the lucky one?"

"I mean, then I'd be fast asleep on the floor, too," Lonnie shook his head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And then we wouldn't be able to, you know, talk or whatever."

"It has been weird at work without you there," Steve admitted quietly, watching as Lonnie hopped down from the counter. "Harrison isn't the best at handling money."

Lonnie laughed, turning a corner out of the kitchen. "Oh, don't tell me you aren't going crazy over the _dreamy_ foreign exchange student from France, of all places. I'm sure all the girls go crazy listening to him talk, aren't they? Or guys, don't want to judge. Or is he like me in that he drives _everyone_ crazy?"

"Oh, you do drive everyone crazy, I'll give you that," Steve smiled, eyeing the package of Oreos on the counter. "Trying to set me up with someone else already, huh? For the record, Harry isn't the sharpest knife in the kitchen. Even if he just so happens to have the curliest hair I've ever seen."

"Someone else? I didn't know you already had someone special in your life, Stephen," Lonnie winked as he reentered the kitchen, this time holding a large wrapped box, handing it to Steve. "Here, I got you something. To, uh, remember me by, or whatever."

"You didn't have to buy me something, Lonnie," Steve smiled as he fiddled with the bright orange wrapping paper. "You're… I'm going to remember you no matter what. If you want, I'll even call you so much that I annoy the shit out of you."

"Oh, I don't doubt that you'll already do that," he laughed. "Well, I guess if you don't want the super awesome and thoughtful gift, I can return it."

"I didn't say that," Steve blushed, carefully tearing into the wrapping paper. "I just said you buying a gift for me was not required, but it is highly appreciated."

"Well, you got me a bunch of cool stuff that I am _definitely_ taking with me, so I thought I'd get you something that you can take with you when you go off to college. Or, well, you can use this now, but- you get what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah, I- you're not serious," Steve said, lifting up the recognizable dark blue button-up. "You're giving me your work shirt?"

"Well, yes and no. That's my work shirt from sophomore year, so it'll probably fit you considering I hadn't hit my growth spurt yet," he laughed nervously. "What, do- do you not like it?"

Though they didn't exactly have strict uniforms at work, both Steve and Lonnie usually resorted to wearing darker colors (as per their manager's request) to make their garish nametags stand out more. And, considering they did work at an ice rink, they often opted to wear shirts with longer sleeves to stay warm. Steve's favorite of Lonnie's work shirts, naturally, was a dark blue button-up that was once a bit of an expensive shirt; until its premature retirement (The Great Growth Spurt of 2001) and its later replacement (The Great Birthday Present of 2002), Lonnie had worn that shirt each shift, dubbing it his lucky shirt for its ability to remain unstained despite Lonnie, well, being Lonnie.

Feeling the fabric between his fingers, Steve smiled in an attempt to tell himself that he was happy and not holding back tears. "Thank you, it's- I love it, I really do."

"I figured you of all people could use some luck, especially with me being gone and all that," Lonnie hopped back onto the counter, taking an Oreo from the package. "Hopefully, it'll keep you from getting your ass beat for just one year."

"You say that like I'm just out actively seeking people to beat my ass," Steve rolled his eyes. "It is probably the best shirt you own, though."

"You gotta dress for the job you want, Stephen, not the job you have."

"Then you should be showing up to work dressed as, like, the _Phantom of the Opera_ guy. You know, with the mask," Steve gestured vaguely to his face, setting the shirt back in the box and placing it on the counter next to the sink.

"You mean the Phantom of the Opera."

"Yeah, the guy from that, with the gross-ass makeup," Steve waves his hand, trying to remember the name of the character. "The, uh… oh, don't give me that look, I know you made me watch the movie, but I was not paying attention all that much."

"No, dipshit, that's his name," Lonnie laughed, shaking his head. "He's just the Phantom. In the book, he probably had a boring name, but reading is… not my thing."

"A lot of things aren't your thing, Lons," he stated, a frown appearing on his face. "I really do like your present, by the way. It's- you know I love that shirt."

"Yeah, but I am taking the replacement shirt with me, never know when I might need it," Lonnie smiled softly. "Too many memories in that shirt, too. I got to kiss you in that shirt."

Steve scoffed, though blushed at the memory. "You- excuse me, but _I_ was the one that kissed _you_. And that was mostly out of pity because you broke your foot like a jackass."

"Either way, I got a kiss- _lots_ of kisses," Lonnie smiled as he looked at Steve, whose face was still broken out in that blush he was so familiar with. Taking a rather deep breath, Lonnie continued, this time with a much more serious tone. "Hey, I was thinking… here, c'mon."

Lonnie hopped off the counter, taking a few steps towards the stairs. Confused, Steve shook his head, though Lonnie remained silent. Fidgeting with his hands, Steve hesitated when Lonnie motioned for him to follow, reaching his hand for Steve to grab. Though Steve recognized this as being the moment he wanted- the moment he _needed_ \- to understand where this strange relationship with Lonnie stood, he still felt nervous as to what it could turn into.

Or, more frighteningly, what it could replace.

Taking a breath, a small smile appeared on Steve's face. Nodding, though mostly to himself, he reached his hand out, the previously unnoticed shaking disappearing immediately once his hand found its place in Lonnie's warm hand that he was glad to have been used to.

* * *

It's hard to imagine a child's life without those sunny summer days, mostly because summer vacation is the highlight of the year. Months spent exploring new places, experiencing new projects, and, in the case of the summer of 1986, encountering new people.

Well, most children like doing new things and meeting new people. Considered rudely reserved by everyone including himself, Stanley Uris was one to follow a regular routine each day, one he wouldn't dare break for fear of his world caving in on him. Of course, being nine years old, the only way he was able to explain his troubles to his one friend in the world was simply "Richie, stop it."

This was no exception on that hot July day, in which Richie and Stanley decided to visit the park. Well, it was Stanley's plan to visit the park, and Richie was more or less invited to come along and not annoy his best friend too much while he stared at the trees through the binoculars he had borrowed from his mother (of course, they were a bit too big for Stanley's small eyes, but he didn't really care too much about that fact). Richie, being an energy-riddled child with a talent for seeking out attention from everyone he comes across- including his beloved best friend- was successful in his attempt to remain quiet during their trip to the park, as he had been enjoying a picture book that Stanley had brought along for him. Of course, it was a religious picture book detailing the adventurous exploits of Moses, which Richie could only find interesting for so long before closing the book in frustration.

"Stan, what are you even doing?" Richie asked loudly, moving from his position on the blanket to in front of Stan, startling him enough to put down the binoculars and shake his head. "What? They're just dumb trees, they don't do anything."

"I'm not looking at the trees, doofus. I'm looking at the birds in the trees," Stan rubbed at his tired eyes before picking up the book he gave to Richie and putting it in his backpack.

"Well, it's still boring. I want to go do something fun for once," Richie whined, throwing himself dramatically across Stan's lap. "Let's go rob a bank!"

"Our moms are coming back to pick us up in, like, an hour. I don't think we have enough time or resources to pull that off," Stan commented flatly before picking up the binoculars once more. "You win this round, capitalism."

"Stan, I said rob a _bank_ , not a capitol." Richie scoffed, moving off Stan's lap to lay down on the blanket next to him, staring off to the side at the small patch of flowers next to him. "And you say you're smarter than me."

"I never said I'm smarter than you," Stan said, playing with the binoculars in his hands. "I just said I have a better grade than you in math class."

Picking one of the white flowers, Richie leaned over and handed it to Stan. "Well, here's your prize for being a regular Einstein."

"Einstein was science, Richie," Stan smiled as he took the flower, placing it down gently on the blanket next to him. "But thank you, it's a nice flower. I think it's a daisy."

" _Stan_ ," Richie whined, leaning over to pick up the daisy. "You're supposed to- here, let me do it."

"No, no," Stan stammered as Richie crawled over to him. Pouting, Richie sat up and tried to place the flower in Stan's hair, even with Stan leaning away from Richie desperately. "Richie, no, don't- don't touch my hair, please."

"Oh, c'mon. You'll look pretty."

"I don't want to look pretty, I want- I want to look like me," Stan groaned, realizing that Richie wouldn't give up in his quest to put the flower in his perfectly combed hair. Sighing, he plucked the flower from between Richie's fingers, tucking it behind his ear slowly. "There, happy? I'm probably going to get attacked by bees now."

"Yeah, but now you smell better," Richie smiled, laying back down on the blanket. "Just kidding, Stan, don't get all upset. You always smell nice."

"Richie…" Stan started before picking up his binoculars one more, changing the subject. "I- just give me a few more minutes, okay? Then we can go walk around or whatever fun thing you had in mind."

"That's the spirit, Staniel," Richie smiled. "Soon enough I can wear you down enough so that you can be just as cool as me."

"Oh, I can't wait," Stan stated sarcastically, laughing softly as he envisioned the "cool" version of himself.

Richie smirked to himself as Stan laughed, always becoming proud of himself when he made his notoriously uptight friend laugh. Stan had a rather cold laugh, one that was rare but exceptionally beautiful when it was genuine. It was sharp, Stan's laugh; just a few beats shy of simply being a giggle. Most of the time, though, Stan's laughs were nothing more than the occasional snort when he recalled a rather humorous pun or when Richie put on one of the obnoxious voices of his (Stan really only humored Richie with a laugh as he learned that the voices were Richie's way of saying that, well, he wanted Stan to laugh).

Stan didn't exactly understand what Richie's deal was, specifically why he acted so… so _Richie_ with him when he was relatively normal with the other kids. Richie seemed to find any excuse (or, most of the time, no excuse at all) to search out Stan's attention, to get Stan to laugh, to be with Stan more often than with, well, any other kid. It was mostly endearing, if not a bit of an invasion of Stan's personal space, when Richie would grab Stan's hand or pull him into a rather uncomfortable hug. Endearing to Stan, mostly; the older kids in particular gave Richie a hard time at school, especially when Richie's rather garish infatuation with Stan became increasingly obvious to them. _Richie's just Richie_ , Stan would tell himself. _He's just a little weird sometimes_.

Humming to himself, Richie stared up at the clouds in the sky as he waited for Stan to finish with his boring hobby for the day, wishing a bit that Stan would have picked a spot under a tree so that they could have been shaded from the increasingly bothersome sunlight.

"You- you should see your face!"

Richie could feel himself laughing as he heard a high-pitched squeal of laughter, though he couldn't really hear himself as he focused wholeheartedly on this kid's laugh. Unlike Stan's, this laugh came from a kid who obviously loved to laugh, as they didn't bother to hide it at all. It was a bit of an odd laugh, a little bit wheezy as the kid began to snort loudly.

Sitting up quickly, Richie wildly turned his head around, trying to find the source of the laughter before his eyes settled on two boys on the sidewalk, the taller of the two bent over and wiping the concrete with a small handful of napkins. The shorter- much shorter- of the two was the source of the laugher, Richie had concluded.

"Stan," he shook the curly-haired boy's shoulder, eyes still glued to the young boy in the rather bright yellow shorts. "Stan, look."

"What?" Stan lowered the binoculars and turned his head, confused as he saw that Richie wasn't looking at him at all. "What do you want?"

"Who's the kid in the shorts?" Richie pointed, quickly glancing back to Stan before turning back to the two kids on the sidewalk.

"I don't-" Stan pulled the binoculars back up to his eyes, looking over at the two boys before groaning. "That's just Eddie, he was in my art class last year- he's a crier, that one," he shook his head as he recalled the way Eddie had sobbed when their teacher introduced the idea of molding things out of clay. Of course, Stan hated ceramics as well, opting to wear a pair of nitrile gloves when he dealt with the messy material, but he didn't cry about it (at least, not in class). He muttered to himself as he turned back around, reaching over to grab his backpack. "Here I was thinking he found something interesting."

When Richie remained silent for more than thirty seconds, Stan turned around to see if he was still there at all, furrowing his eyebrows for a moment as he saw that Richie was still staring at Eddie. It wasn't Richie's staring that caused Stan's confusion, mostly because Richie would stare at him from time to time, lost in thought; rather, it was the way that Richie was staring. He wasn't forming some convoluted scheme in his mind, he wasn't thinking of a crude joke to tell Stan five seconds later, he wasn't wondering what he was having for dinner that night.

Richie was simply taking in the sight of the kid in front of him, looking at him with an appreciation on his face that Stan really only recognized from the way he himself would stare at the birds in the trees.

Stan tried not to care too much when he noticed Richie's smile; or, at least, he told himself not to care about it too much. It wasn't that he was jealous of the new object that managed to catch Richie's attention for more than five seconds, not at all. Gripping his backpack tighter, Stan tried to sigh away his frustration as he tugged at the blanket, trying to get Richie to move off it so that he could place it back in his bag. "It's not polite to stare, Richie."

"Yeah, sure," Richie replied, standing up when he noticed Stan was pulling at the blanket from under him. He didn't know when he had made his way over to the sidewalk, though was pulled back into reality when he noticed Eddie's confused expression and was trying to say something, turning to his friend on the ground.

"Bill, I think he's freaking out or something," he said worriedly. "Hey, are you okay?"

Eddie turned back to look at Richie, who lifted his hand up in a small wave. Eddie laughed nervously, taking a small bite of his ice cream cone as he glanced back over at the taller boy on the ground.

"Hi," Richie finally managed to say as he pointed at the boy's shirt, smiling. "I… uh, your shirt, I like."

"Oh, thanks, Master Yoda," Eddie replied, looking down at his mostly plain white polo shirt. The only thing that separated it from a completely plain shirt was the small print of a cluster of stars a few inches southeast of the boy's collar. The boy looked back up, smiling as he introduced himself. "Eddie, my name is. That's Bill. He dropped his ice cream on the ground, it was pretty funny."

"Was not!" Bill exclaimed, looking up at Eddie as he continued cleaning up the ice cream off the sidewalk.

"I'm Richie," Richie smiled. "I, uh… is that why you were laughing? The ice cream."

Eddie blushed in embarrassment, though managed to nod. "Yeah, Bill was telling me about this comic he got yesterday and butterfingers over there just dropped his ice cream all over the sidewalk," he laughed.

"Okay," Bill stood up, walking a few feet to a trash bin, tossing the wet handful of chocolate-covered napkins into it. "We sh-should get going, Eddie. The m-m-movie's gonna start s-soon."

Eddie nodded at the taller boy, turning back to say goodbye to the odd boy in the pink floral shirt that was only about two sizes too big for him. "It was nice meeting you, Richie," he smiled, fingers tapping against what was left of his ice cream cone.

Heart pounding, though he didn't understand why, Richie smiled, fidgeting with the bottom of his shirt. "I, uh… I'll see you around, crocodile."

A small look of confusion spread across Eddie's face before he laughed, a laugh that seemed to cause Richie's heart to leap up into his throat. While Stan's laugh was cold and sharp, Eddie's was full of warmth. Richie noticed a small dimple that appeared on his cheek as he laughed, shaking his head at the joke Richie hadn't even realized he made. Of course, Richie would take credit for the moment being due to a well-thought-out joke rather than lovestruck confusion.

As Eddie's laughter calmed down, he took a step in Bill's direction, waving once more to Richie. "In a while, alligator," he smiled, turning back to his taller friend, continuing their path down the sidewalk.

Richie was still smiling when Stan walked up, hitting the back of his head lightly with his hand. "Thanks for helping me fold the blanket, Richie. You were so helpful," Stan remarked sarcastically, nudging Richie when he wasn't responding.

"I thought you'd be proud of me, Mom. I made a friend all by myself," Richie laughed. "Maybe now I don't really have to bother you so much."

"You never bother me, Richie," Stan said softly, looking over at his spectacled best friend.

"Hm?" Richie asked, returning his attention to Stan for the first time since he first heard Eddie's laughter. "What'd I do this time?"

Stan sighed, though appreciative that Richie had finally returned to him. "Nothing, just… let's go have some fun, then." He smiled, reaching up his hand to move a loose curl away from his eye. "You ready?"

Though Richie nodded excitedly, he could feel a bit of hesitation as Stan reached out to grab his arm, pulling him in the direction of the small swing set on the other side of the park. For the first time in his short life, Richie didn't exactly feel ready for what would come next. Surely, he wasn't prepared for meeting such a strangely interesting kid, right? At the same time, though, Richie realized that that's what made life so much fun, the unpredictability of it, even if it was a bit scary.

He'd never admit to Eddie that he had felt fear in that moment, though. No one wants to be known as the kid that was afraid of Eddie Kaspbrak, of all people. He was a crier, after all.

As Stan was rambling on about all the different birds that he wanted to see that summer, Richie swore he could faintly hear that high-pitched squeal of a laugh from farther down the sidewalk. Smiling, Richie looked down at his feet as he was dragged along, appreciating that joyous laugh even if he wasn't the one that made that laugh burst into existence. With Stan, the appreciation came from the fact that he was the one making Stan laugh; with Eddie, well, it was simply from the fact that it existed at all.

Though unprepared by a mile, Richie's smile didn't falter when he admitted the scariest thing in the world to himself. In fact, one might have argued that his smile grew the tiniest bit as he thought. It would be hard to say, though. Richie smiled about everything.

_I think I love him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me over on Tumblr - @kenzie-ann27
> 
> Or say hi to Richie and Steve on my ask blog! It's a ship that's too small to sail - @ask-covier


	3. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I suck at chapter summaries but this one is a nice mix of Richie's lunch with Bill after the wedding and his and Steve's relationship prior to its rather rocky points. Enjoy!
> 
> Update: I did change Richie and Steve's dog's name from Stan to Israel (or Izzy or Iz for short), mostly because I liked the name more for a long-term thing.

"I fucking hate him!"

In hindsight, making a phone call with your rather distraught ex-boyfriend wasn't the best decision made by Richie that day. Hell, it wasn't even the best decision he had made that _hour_. Sitting alone at a small diner waiting for Bill, Richie thought he'd pass the time by sipping on his sugary coffee and deciding where exactly he and Steve stood.

"I know that, alright?" Richie spoke softly, not wanting to disrupt the others at the diner; or, worse, call attention to himself. "You've made it abundantly clear that you don't like Eddie."

"Don't try and say that shit like I'm the one causing problems, asshole. You just fucking sat there and let them say that shit when you know I don't like it."

"I know that, but-"

"All my fucking like people just tell me who to be and what to do. I'm sick and tired of that shit and you just let them do that knowing very well that I can't stand it."

"I'm sorry, but what was I supposed to do? I couldn't say shit without them asking questions and it just- it wasn't the right time, alright?

"It's never fucking- I don't know why you bothered to call me," Steve scoffed, sighing when Richie didn't answer him. "I- what do you want me to say here, Rich?"

"I just wanted to talk to you," Richie looked up when he noticed the door open, though he returned his gaze back to his menu when the new customer turned out not to be Bill. "Can- can we just talk?"

"No, I- I don't want to talk. Two fucking years, Rich," he sniffed, giving Richie the suspicion that he was crying. Steve never was exactly a loud crier, Richie had noticed, in the select few times he had seen Steve cry. What became loud, however, was his breathing; something that Richie was too familiar with (but, of course, couldn't bring that up right now). "I don't- not now. I can't right now."

"Hey, that's okay. We can just… we can talk later," Richie replied, reaching his hand up to wave as he noticed Bill walk into the diner, carrying with him his adorable two-year-old daughter. "Just call me or text me or whatever if you need anything, okay? I wouldn't- it would be easier if I knew where you were."

Steve sighed, and Richie could sense the unease in his voice. "I don't- I'm at a hotel for now. I needed a day to think, alright? But I'm… I found a better place to stay, so I'll probably head over there in a bit."

"Okay, that's… that's good," Richie nodded, giving an apologetic look to Bill as he walked up, allowing his babbling toddler to crawl her way into the booth before he looked around for the booster seats.

"I'm just gonna- you know," Bill pointed at the seats near the door, looking at Richie with rather tired eyes before glancing over at the raven-haired toddler as she stood up in the booth, smacking the table with her hands. "Make sure Jordan doesn't fall over and hurt herself."

Richie nodded, giving Bill a thumbs up as he walked back over to the door. Returning his gaze back to the squealing toddler in front of him, Richie smiled at Jordan as she tilted her head to the left, reaching her tiny hand out to grab at the ketchup bottle on the table. Richie opened his mouth to say something to her, though his attention was quickly returned to his phone as Steve suddenly spoke up.

"I'm gonna go now, Rich. I don't- I don't know what you want me to say," he sighed. "I need to think, I really do. So, just… just please leave me alone right now."

"Okay, it's okay. I'm gonna text you later- just to see how you're doing. I'm at lunch with Bill right now so… yeah. Take care of yourself, alright? Okay, talk to you later," Richie smiled sadly as he set his phone down on the table, looking up to see Bill return with the clunky booster seat.

"Hey, don't give me that look," Bill laughed as he set the seat down in the booth, reaching to pick up his daughter; apparently, Jordan wasn't in the mood to be picked up, as she shied away from Bill's hands, instead opting to back up into the corner of the booth, swatting him away a few times before he was successfully able to pick her up. "I- Jordan loves seeing you, plus we don't really want to keep her all cooped up in a hotel room all day when we're flying back home tomorrow."

"Clearly she doesn't like seeing you," Richie tried to hide his amused smile when she started to ragdoll as she was picked up. "You teach her that move, Denbrough?"

"Oh, can it. She's just- hey, you have no room to talk, _Tozier_. You don't even have kids."

"Yeah, I'm really missing out," Richie commented flatly, watching as Jordan stuck her hand in her mouth as she was being buckled into the seat before sticking her slimy fingers in Bill's hair. "That's… no, I'm good. Kids are definitely not my strong suit."

* * *

"Rich, you do know that there are bugs that can kill you, right?" Steve attempted to say sternly as he continued to douse himself in bug spray, trying to hide his smile as he listened to Richie's exaggerated coughing fit while they stood outside their car. "I remember learning in high school that houseflies carry, like, a hundred diseases alone. And that's just flies."

"Oh, so you just learned this yesterday?" Richie commented, squealing when Steve leaned over and sprayed him with the bug spray.

"Ha ha, I'm young," he replied flatly, tossing the can into his backpack and slinging it over his shoulders. "You know, usually it's the younger person that makes fun of the older person for being old. Then again, I don't think you'd learn that back in your, what, one-room schoolhouse?"

"Making fun of my age, are you, Covall? Real mature," Richie shook his head, laughing as Steve shoved him lightly on their way to a large map at the beginning of the trail.

"Okay, considering we aren't, like, professional hikers, let's just go to here," Steve pointed at the map, glancing over at Richie. "It looks like it's about halfway, which is still a little more than a mile, but we can stop and have lunch and take pictures and stuff. Just promise you're not going to turn into one of those Instagram assholes, 'kay? It's right before this sharp turn, too, so I think we'll be able to know where we are- yeah, halfway sounds fine."

"Steve only goes halfway with you, Mr. Trail," Richie nodded, winking at the shorter man in front of him. "But he _loves_ going all the way with me."

"You do know that kids visit this trail, right? Actual children?" Steve turned to look back at the map, pulling out his phone to take a picture of it. "So, your joke is not only wildly inappropriate but also very inaccurate."

"Hey, you weren't complaining last night," Richie laughed as they started down the trail, taking in the nature surrounding them.

"I will neither confirm nor deny that accusation."

* * *

Lunch with Bill wasn't the most spectacular of events, not that Richie was expecting it to be, but he did want there to be a bit more conversation to distract him from his thoughts. Well, more conversation than Jordan was providing, anyway.

"Fye!" she would demand, staring down Richie as she grabbed at thin air in front of her.

"I- Bill, what is she doing?" Richie asked before taking a sip of his coffee. "I don't speak gibberish."

"Fye! Fye!" Jordan whined, dropping her hand to smack the table. Moving the plastic sippy cup of milk away so that it wouldn't spill, Bill smiled as he looked down at his daughter before looking back at Richie.

"I think she wants to steal some of your fries," he laughed before turning his attention back to Jordan. "It's _fr-y_ , sweetie" Bill commented, enunciating the word slowly despite the two-year-old clearly not listening to him.

"Oh, uh, here," Richie took a small handful of his fries, pulling a few napkins from the dispenser on the table and setting the fries on that, sliding them over to Jordan. "Enjoy, little lady Denbrough."

"Richie, you gotta break them up, you can't just- here," Bill pulled the fries away from Jordan, breaking them up into smaller pieces before setting them back in front of her. "Jordie, here are your _fr-ies_ , honey."

Grabbing one of the fries and shoving it in her mouth, Jordan turned and babbled to Bill, who nodded along as if he could understand her completely. "Oh, really? Woah, that's pretty cool," he replied, his daughter mimicking his nodding.

"I must say, Bill, your daughter does have fantastic fashion sense," Richie laughed, noticing the purple floral shirt Jordan was wearing. "Whoever bought that for her must be one cool dude."

Taking a small bite of his hamburger, Bill looked down at the toddler next to him and smiled as she chewed another french-fry. "Yeah, that's about the only thing from you that I'm fine with her picking up," he smiled, turning back to Richie and opening his mouth to continue before turning back to Jordan after she cried out, Bill's hand trying to maneuver his daughter's fingers away from her ear.

"No, no, honey, you know you're not supposed to- hey, it's okay, it's okay," Bill reassured her as he tried to move her attention back on the fries in front of her. Turning to Richie, he apologized nervously. "Sorry, we're just… the doctor said she's not supposed to mess with it, so we have to watch her and make sure she's not going to hurt herself or break her hearing aid, you know? I know they're made to be like toddler-proof but at the same time, it's, uh… it's scary," Richie nodded, watching as Jordan slowly calmed back down in front of him. "I mean, she only has the one, so it's easier to keep an eye on her, but it's… it's still scary. I guess when she's older it might be a little easier since she won't be trying to pull at it or eat it or any other number of things she's trying to do with it now."

"You never really talked about it before," Richie watched as Jordan reached out for her cup, pulling it quickly towards her mouth. "Is, like… what exactly is it?"

"She can still hear, mostly," Bill scratched his head, speaking slowly as he tried to come up with the best way to explain Jordan's situation. "It's hard since she can't really tell us what she does hear, y'know? I'm guessing things are just muffled for her a bit, in that ear. The, uh, the hearing aid helps balance things out, kind of like glasses but for her ear. When you take off your glasses, things are all fuzzy and stuff, so I'm guessing some sounds get a bit fuzzy for her when she's not wearing it," he moved his hand to tuck a loose strand of her thick wavy hair behind her ear. "But other than that, she seems to be fine. She's just a goofy kid- and I can't imagine where she got that from."

"Hey, she's going to grow up to be the coolest one of the bunch," Richie commented, poking around at his half-eaten club sandwich.

* * *

"Dude, you know I don't eat that shit," Steve groaned, placing the ham sandwich back into the lunch bag that Richie had packed earlier that morning. "What kind of sandwich did you make for yourself?"

"Chicken, I think," Richie said quietly, trying to find an acceptable signal on his phone to answer a text. "You can have my sandwich if you- you're already eating it, okay."

"What? I'm hungry," he laughed, taking the sandwich out of the plastic bag. "Too bad we didn't come out here later in the day," Steve said, gesturing to the small valley in front of them. "I bet the sunset here is amazing."

Cursing himself for not timing their trip at a much better time in the day, Richie set his phone down on their blanket, looking over at his smiling boyfriend as he appreciated the view. "Well, I mean… we wouldn't be able to have had lunch here if we came later."

"I guess that's true," Steve turned back, his smile fading a bit when he noticed Richie staring at him, reaching up to wipe his cheek. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, no, I just- I like looking at you, that's all," Richie replied, laughing softly to himself.

Gasping dramatically, Steve leaned over on the blanket to push the taller man. "Richie Tozier, I suspect you might have a bit of a crush on little ol' me."

"I'm guessing you're in one of your moods today," Richie chuckled as he sat up again. "Who are you and what have you done with the man I love?"

"Congratulations, Richie, you admitted your feelings in a public space," he smiled, taking a small bite out of the chicken sandwich. "I will have to admit, it sounds really weird to hear you say it out loud when we aren't at home, even if there is probably no one around for at least a mile. Though, then again, when you say it at home, most of the time you're talking to the dog," Steve chuckled.

"Well, it's true," Richie replied seriously. "I- I know I make things weird, but you're always so patient with me. I don't-"

"Hey," Steve set the sandwich down on the blanket, reaching over to grab Richie's hand. "It's okay. There's no rush, doofus, I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. Even if you do have one foot in the grave and it is getting _really_ hard not to hold your hand in public places."

Smiling, Richie nodded, pulling his hand away to adjust his glasses. "I really don't deserve you," he laughed.

"No, you definitely don't," Steve smirked, turning to look back at the view of the valley. "I love you, too."

Laughing softly, Richie leaned over to grab the ham sandwich out of the lunch bag, taking a small bite out of it before setting it down on the blanket next to him. Turning around and grabbing his own backpack, he unzipped it and felt around for his bottle of water, smiling and looking over towards Steve when he felt that too familiar box in the bottom of the bag. Pulling out his water bottle, Richie wiped the condensation off the side with his hand, which he then leaned over to wipe off on Steve's arm.

"Of course you do."

* * *

"When are you going to formally introduce me to the other little Denbrough?" Richie asked, wiping his hand on a napkin before balling it up and placing it on the table.

"Well, you don't exactly come out to L.A. that often, Richie," Bill looked down at Jordan when she smacked his arm, holding out his finger for her hand to grab onto. "But since you're here for the next week or so anyway, you're more than welcome to come down and say hello to Jules. Fair warning, though, she's very- she moves around a lot. Must be that red hair, I think… thank you _so much_ for that, Mom."

"I can't believe Audra actually let you name your kid that," Richie laughed, smiling at the waitress that came by to drop off their bill. "You do know that Juliet is the one that dies, right?"

"Yes, moron, I know that," Bill rolled his eyes as Richie fiddled with his wallet. "And it was actually Audra's idea for the name. The first role she ever played was Juliet in her high school play, and I really liked the name, too, so that's what we went with. I'm sure Audra would _love_ to hear your opinions on our kids' names, by the way- you want to come by our house and criticize the way we decorate it?"

"I am practically the king of criticizing people, you know that," Richie laughed. "You know, if I didn't love comedy so much, maybe I should go into writing. I hear that shit- sorry, that _stuff_ \- is ridiculously easy."

"Oh yeah, writing's a breeze. Maybe you want to try becoming a doctor while you're at it."

"Well, I mean, I text all the time. Twitter and stuff. Writing is just like long-form tweets, dude."

"I am not going to respond to that. Like, I physically cannot comprehend your logic behind that one," shaking his head, Bill looked over at Jordan, smiling as she looked right back at him. "Don't listen to anything this moron says, honey."

"Hey, if she's lucky, she'll turn out exactly like me. I got blessed with the brains and the looks."

* * *

"I can't believe you made me forget to grab my phone," Steve muttered, searching his bag and giving up promptly with a huff. "Making fun of me and my bug spray- c'mon, give me your bag, maybe it's in there."

"No, you can't just- I'm sure you left it in the car. We can get it later, okay?"

Scoffing, Steve stood up, taking a breath. "My sister was supposed to call me, Rich, you know that. I know it's her fourth kid so it shouldn't really be that big of a deal, but she was supposed to call and tell me how the ultrasound went. It's- I don't know, I'd like to know whether I'm going to have another niece or nephew."

"I know it's important to you, I know that, but- I don't know, you can call her later or something," Richie shrugged, trying to cover up his panicked feeling. "Besides, I couldn't even get any signal out here, she wouldn't have been able to call anyway."

"This is my family, Rich," Steve shook his head. "I- I'll just go back to the car for a few minutes, okay? I'll be back in, like, forty-five minutes, tops."

"What? No, you can't just- you can't just leave. No, that's- Steve, it's fine," he stood up, walking over to where Steve was pacing slowly on the trail.

"It's not fine, it's… I don't know," he sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Can I just- give me your phone, then. I'll walk around for a bit and try to get a signal."

"And what if you can't?"

"Then I'll just come back here," Steve replied tiredly, taking Richie's phone from his outstretched hand. "God, why do you have to make things so complicated?"

"I'm not making things complicated," he muttered. "You're just- we're in the middle of nowhere and no one else is around, y'know? Like, you could get hurt and I wouldn't know about it."

"I'm not going to get hurt, I'm just going to find a cell signal so I can call my sister. It's not exactly going to war," Steve laughed, waving to Richie as he left on the trail back to their car. "If you really are that worried, just come find me in twenty minutes if I'm not back before then."

"Using the amazing technology of the wristwatch," Richie smiled, pointing to his wrist. "Just hurry back, please. I don't want some family coming around here thinking I'm a fucking loser for having a romantic picnic all by myself."

"I wouldn't put it past you, Tozier. You'd marry your reflection if you could."

* * *

"Hey, how's Steve been?" Bill asked before taking a sip of his soda. "I think you mentioned he got sick or something last night."

"Oh, he's, uh… he's alright, I think. I called him earlier and he seemed to be doing better," Richie glanced down at his phone before looking back up at Bill, who simply nodded. "Yeah, so he's doing better. He gets weird sometimes, I think the alcohol didn't really help with that. He gets dizzy or whatever- I don't know."

"Oh, well, I'm glad he's doing better," he smiled. "He seems like a nice guy. Not at all how you describe him in your shows, though. He seems… quiet."

Laughing, Richie took another bite of his sandwich, shaking his head before continuing. "Yeah, I guess he wasn't really expecting to see so many famous people. He didn't believe me at first when I said I got invited."

"That's- but he's a manager, right? My manager works with a ton of people. I'm sure Steve is used to talking to well-known people all the time," Bill replied, handing Jordan's cup of milk to her as she struggled to reach it.

"No, not really. He's worked with me since he graduated from college. We're- it's more of like a partnership than he works for me or I work for him. I'm the only one he works with," Richie shrugged, trying to make his statement a bit more casual than it had probably sounded. "I mean… we've been friends for a long time, too. He's never done the whole managing thing before and I was as lost as he was, but it was nice to know I had a friend with me while I figured this whole thing out."

"That's… interesting," Bill frowned, trying to make sense of what Richie had described to him. "But, hey, I guess it's worked out pretty well for the both of you, right?"

"Oh, sure. It's been, what, eight- nine years? It's been super crazy, like, to see my whole life change in such a short amount of time. It's been nice to have someone like that with me, though," Richie sighed, looking down at the table as he thought. "I mean, like, with my career. I don't know if I'd really like going through a bunch of different people or working with a big team of people."

"I'm surprised he's put up with your nonsense for that long, to be honest," Bill smiled, looking down at his daughter who was more interested in her fingers than him. "You're lucky he hasn't left you for someone less stupid."

"You wound me, Denbrough."

* * *

The first thing Steve noticed was the pain, the shooting pain that seemed to cut right through him. The second thing that came back to him was the events that had happened that led him here.

Here.

Here was an abandoned campsite ten feet below a slippery slope of rocks off the main trail. Here being on the ground. Here being on a pile of broken glass.

Here was not where Steve had wanted to be, of course. No one could want this. He wanted to be back home, back in the car, back at his and Richie's lunch, anywhere but here.

Richie.

Steve hadn't bothered to look down at the damage done by the small group of empty beer bottles left behind by some asshole campers who couldn't be bothered to take their garbage with them. He hadn't bothered to look down because he could feel what they had done to him. Oh, God, he could feel it.

But Richie was still out there. A good ten minutes away, and probably distracted by God knows what, but he was still out there.

The first thing Richie noticed was, of course, the call for help. Well, it was less of a call and more of a scream. And, scream-wise, it was less of a playful scream you'd make when your girlfriend sneaked up behind you and scared you and more of a terrified scream you'd make when you are currently being murdered and are desperate for someone to come and save your life.

That someone being one Richie Tozier, who, historically, had never saved anyone's life.

Still, Richie couldn't ignore the call to action, mostly due to him being very well aware of the fact that his boyfriend had not yet returned from his journey to find a cell signal. So, needless to say, Richie was in a bit of a panic.

Grabbing everything on the blanket (and then the blanket itself) and shoving it their bags, Richie thought for a split second that he looked a bit ridiculous with his panicked expression and the two backpacks he was struggling to carry on his back, but none of that really mattered right now. It wouldn't ever really matter again, either, with Richie mentally adding "go camping" to the list of things he'll never be able to do again, right after "wear crocs" (though that was really forced upon that list by Steve).

"Okay, okay," he whispered to himself as he started back down the trail, seeing no sign in front of him that Steve was really ever there. "Where the fuck is he?" Richie asked himself, looking around frantically as he knew all too well that, in situations like these, every minute counts.

* * *

"You know you can always stay with us- Audra loves you, you know that. We all do," Bill turned to stand out of the booth, reaching to pull his daughter's booster seat towards him. "You're going to be in L.A., you might as well stay with us."

"I don't know, dude, I- I'm fine, really. I have a lot of stuff to do and, uh, some things to figure out. I don't want to be barging in the Denbrough house with your two kids and your wife- even if I do love that little furball you have at home."

"Toffee _is_ the world's greatest cat. Isn't that right, Jordan?" Bill asked her sweetly as he picked her up from the seat, holding her out towards Richie. "Here, hold her while I put this stupid seat back."

"Oh, I don't- okay," Richie stammered as Jordan was placed in his arms, her head turning to watch Bill as he walked over to the door.

"Uh… hi there," Richie said nervously, adjusting the squirming toddler in his arms. "I do love your shirt, Little Denbrough. You're welcome for giving you the best sense of fashion, too. I'm sure you'll thank me later for that one. When you can say actual words."

Giggling to herself, Jordan reached her hands up and grabbed at Richie's glasses, causing him to groan. "No, don't- geez, now there's smudges all on the- here," he sat her back down in the booth. Standing up quickly, she babbled quite angrily in Richie's direction as he took off his glasses, looking at the smudges on the lenses.

"You're lucky you're cute," he muttered, handing the glasses to her. "No, you don't chew on the- I'm guessing you inherited your dad's intelligence. I'm sorry about that." Taking the glasses and setting them properly on her face, Richie smiled as Jordan quickly reached up to take them off. "Yeah, that's how I feel about them, too. I need them to see, though, like how you need that weird little purple thing in your ear to hear. Life's funny like that- you'll figure that out soon enough. Things happen but there are things that help you get better."

* * *

"Hey! Hey!" Richie felt his heart shoot up into his throat when he saw him, part in relief that he simply found Steve, though mainly after realizing that he was on the ground and he wasn't exactly sitting up after turning his head to look in Richie's direction. _At least he's not dead_.

"Hey," Steve replied faintly, laughing softly as Richie scrambled down the short rocky slope to get to him. "Hey, I- I got hurt."

"Yeah, I can… I see that." Richie reached out his hands to help Steve stand up, but he pulled them back when Steve reached out his hand shakily, his phone tight in his grip.

"I- I couldn't find," he closed his eyes when Richie took his phone, letting his arm fall back to its place on his stomach. "The signal- I couldn't find one."

"It's okay, you're okay," Richie sighed when he noticed the small bloody fingerprint on the back of his phone, shoving it in his pocket and shaking his head. "Okay, I'm going to- hey, are you okay to walk?"

"If I was, I wouldn't be down here, I'd- I wouldn't-"

"Alright, that's- okay," Richie leaned down, reaching his hands out once more. "C'mon, just grab my hands and I'll pull you up. I can't- I don't know what happened."

"I can't- I can't fucking get up, dude," Steve shook his head, hiding his face under his arms. "It fucking- it hurts. Like an 'I think I'm gonna die' level of hurt."

"I'm not leaving you here," Richie shook his head. "I'm not doing that again- I'm not… here, just- I'll carry you."

"Yeah, now's not the time for jokes."

"I'm not fucking joking, I'm- it's not that far of a walk, I think. We just need to get back to the car and then I'll get you to a doctor or a hospital or something. You'll be okay, it'll be okay."

"It's not that easy, I-" Steve groaned as he was pulled up into a far less comfortable sitting position, though Richie's grip on his arms remained just as firm despite his pained response. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"I don't care if it's not easy. I- I know it's not going to be easy," Richie sighed, standing back up to try and think about the situation. "Jesus, what the fuck did you fall on?"

"Just get me to a doctor and I'll answer your questions later, Detective Tozier," he shook his head, taking in a short breath.

"Sorry, I'm just- I'm trying to fucking think here."

"C'mon, just… you've picked me up before, it's not that big of a deal."

Richie shook his head, sighing as he leaned back down. "This is completely different, and you know that."

"Woah, woah- stop," he stammered, causing Richie to pull his arms back. "How exactly are you going to do this?"

"I'll just- I don't know, my shoulder? Like how firefighters do it. You're not that heavy, honestly. And it's not that far of a walk- it'll be fine. Just trust me, 'kay?"

"It's not that, I just… fine, I trust you-"

"Okay, then. Let's go."

* * *

"Are you over here trying to make my daughter go blind, Tozier?" Bill asked as he walked up, reaching out his hands to pick up the little girl in question.

"Me? Never," Richie gasped, feigning offense as he cleaned his smudged glasses off on his shirt. "You know me better than that, Bill."

"Well, I _do_ know you. That's why I know you'd do something that stupid."

"Oh, like you haven't done your fair share of stupid things," shaking his head, Richie walked behind Bill as he made his way to the door. "Might I remind you of that time you egged my house after Stan and I made up our own language and constantly insulted you?"

"You guys didn't need to make an entirely new language to insult me. You do that in English every day."

"Yeah, but we were, like, ten. And you didn't hit that weird growth spurt yet so we weren't intimidated by you," Richie laughed as he recalled the event.

"Your mom sure did give me a talking to after that little stunt," Bill shook his head as he made his way over to his car. "Maybe I shouldn't have egged your house at two in the afternoon when I knew full well that your mom didn't work."

"Hey, she worked. Taking care of me was enough work. She should have started buying stock in band-aids and ice packs after all the shit- _stuff_ \- that I used to do."

"And you're over here calling me the stupid one," Bill laughed, more at Richie's expression in response to the statement than at his statement itself. "Oh, come on, there's no argument that you were the worse kid between us."

"You call it worse, I call it better. Or, at least, more fun to be around," Richie smiled as he watched Bill attempt to place his squirming daughter in the car seat, trying not to laugh when she tried to kick at him as he buckled her in. "See, now, Little Denbrough? She's going to be the life of the party, just you watch."

* * *

"I feel like a jackass," Steve turned his head, resting his other cheek on top of his backpack. "You can- you can say it, you know. You were right and I was wrong and all that shit."

"Oh, _you_ feel like a jackass? I'm the one with your ass next to my face doing the most exercise I've ever done in my life," Richie's voice strained as he walked, holding tight onto both Steve's legs and his hand. "Plus, you know, trying not to completely freak out while you're bleeding out on me."

"I'm not… I'm fine, just a little scratched up," he muttered, trying to stay still while Richie walked down the rocky trail back to their car. "And don't try to act like you don't absolutely love my ass."

"Scratched up? Yeah, that's funny," Richie shook his head, barking out a hollow laugh. "Tell that to me again when you're getting all that glass removed from your back."

"I fell on my stomach," Steve sighed, trying to loosen Richie's grip on his hand. "I- I didn't know what to do so I turned over on my back and apparently that was the worst possible thing to do. Plus, you know, I banged up my head pretty good when I fell down that stupid hill."

"You'll be okay, we're almost- shit!" Richie exclaimed as he tripped on a small log, stumbling a bit as he tried to regain his footing. "Sorry, sorry- are you okay?"

"Just… just walk, please," he breathed, voice muffled by the fabric of the backpack. For a while, the pain didn't seem as bad when Richie remained steady on the road and kept talking. Of course, Richie Tozier was quite good at being distracting. "Talk, just- just talk. Keep talking."

"Okay, okay. I, uh… I was thinking of taking Izzy to some of those dumb dog classes? Like, so he doesn't freak out every time we take him somewhere," Richie let go of Steve's leg to reach up to fix the back of his shirt, stopping for a moment when he saw the small streak of blood on his hand. "He, uh, he- he needs to learn the, uh…"

"You're not walking, Rich. Please just keep walking. I just- I want to go home."

"Yeah, yeah- sorry, I just got a little, uh, distracted," shaking his head, Richie continued walking, this time a little faster than before. Checking his watch, he smiled, nudging his head against Steve's waist. "I think we're almost there, maybe another two or three minutes. Just, you know… just don't bleed out on me."

"I didn't realize you were this strong," he smiled, looking at the trees as Richie continued to walk. "I know I'm small but you're not exactly… you're you."

"Yeah, well, adrenaline works wonders when you're trying to keep someone from not dying," Richie sighed, shaking his head. "Especially someone you love."

"Oh, I always knew you loved me," Steve laughed, gripping Richie's hand a bit tighter. "Never in love, just love."

"I think you're going, like, hysterical now, bud."

"I've known you for nine years. You don't… this isn't _in love_ , this is just dumb ol' regular love."

"Now's not really the time, I don't- we can talk about this later."

"I am in love with you," Steve replied softly, reaching his free hand around to grab Richie's arm tightly. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah… yeah, I know."

* * *

"I really mean it, you're welcome to stay with us- you're practically family," Bill stated as he turned on the car, glancing back to look at Jordan as she chewed on the lid of her cup. "And I can be your tour guide for the _wonderful_ city of Los Angeles."

"Dude, I told you, it's fine. Plus, I've been there before, I don't really need a tour guide. Hell, I used to live there for, like, ten years," Richie shook his head as Bill laughed, taking a step away from his car. "I'll think about it, okay? I get what you mean, you travel a lot so you're never really at home. Right now's just a weird time for me, like… I have a lot going on. My flight's later tonight, so I'll call you before I leave."

"I don't mean to be so pushy about it- life has been crazy and we never get to really hang out together that much. So, when you're finally over here in my great state of California, I want to hang out and stuff."

"No, I get that, I just- I'll go back to the hotel and sleep on it," Richie smiled. "It's a lot to think about, and I don't know if you're really sure of what you're getting yourself into, Denbrough."

"Yeah, but it'll be worth it, I guess," Bill turned to buckle his seatbelt, smiling at Jordan as she babbled to herself. "Plus, I know you won't pull anything in my house when I have two small children crawling around and my wife is there talking your ear off the whole time."

"I thought I talked a lot, but Audra sure does love holding conversations with people," he laughed, giving Bill a small wave as he pulled his keys out of his pocket.

"I love that about her, she talks enough for both of us."

"Oh, I'm sure you do, Denbrough."

* * *

Richie hated hospitals. He believed he could come up with a reason why at some point, but, honestly, he just simply never cared for them. Nothing good ever comes from hospitals, it's where people go when they're in pain. They come here in pain and the people left in the waiting room are the ones that leave in pain. Sometimes, anyway. Sometimes.

He knew what he looked like, sitting in that uncomfortable blue chair, leg bouncing as he tried to focus on anything, anything at all. The television, which was on some boring cooking network. His phone, which was nearly dead. His hands, which were still slightly streaked with blood.

Richie didn't want his head to win this game. He didn't want to lose himself in his thoughts once again. He was starting to look back at the small television in the corner when his attention was brought to his pocket, where Steve's phone began to vibrate loudly. He had found the phone on the floor of his car, never really thinking of giving it to its owner as Richie fumbled to get in the car and find, well, this place.

Ignoring the phone call, Richie sighed as he silenced the phone, shoving it back in his pocket and taking off his glasses.

He wished he could understand this situation better, sitting in a waiting room while the person he loved was getting better. He didn't have that last time, no, of course not. Richie didn't receive the privilege of worry, of hope. There was only certainty then. No hospital rooms, no doctors.

Steve, on the other hand, was perfectly fine with hospitals, especially when it comes to him being very hurt and in need of immediate help. It helps when they help, of course. Hospital rooms were quite uncomfortable to him, though. Those uncomfortable beds and the rooms that were too sterile; generic paintings and old magazines seemed to be in surplus at hospitals everywhere.

What always helped, though, was waking up and looking over to see a loved one sitting nearby in an equally uncomfortable chair.

"Told you I wasn't going to get hurt," he smiled, laughing softly when Richie looked over in his direction and rolled his eyes. "And you look like shit, by the way."

"What?"

"You know, that's the cliché thing to say- they do it in the movies all the time," Steve groaned as he sat up, smiling as Richie moved his chair closer to his bed. "So… when am I getting out of here?"

"I don't think you'll have to stay overnight, so I guess we just wait to see what your nurse says," Richie sighed. "You really scared the shit out of me, you know."

"Yeah, well, I'm fine. Well, I guess I am going to get some pretty cool scars," he furrowed his eyebrows as he scratched at his nose, brushing his hand against a small bandage on his jaw. "You've- I guess I did fall pretty hard."

"I don't get you," Richie shook his head as he fidgeted with his phone in his hand. "You- you could have died or something, you got really hurt. Like… and you're not freaking out about anything. You're just- you were laughing and stuff, making jokes. I don't- I don't get it."

Steve shrugged, staring down at the wristband on his forearm. "I don't know. I just… I don't remember laughing. I just know that when I was… I couldn't do anything. It doesn't matter because I couldn't control anything. I mean, I hate that more than anything, but," he sighed, glancing over at Richie, who looked at him with puzzlement. "Shit, I don't know. All I remember is that I fell down a hill and it hurt like hell. And now I'm here and I just want to go home. I can't be me when I'm here, so I just want to go home."

"I- I thought you said you were fine with it," Richie spoke quietly, very much aware of the open door that led to the bright hallway. "Being patient and stuff."

"You don't want to have this conversation here, Rich, okay? We're both tired and I just want to get back home so I can sleep. I'm sorry this wasn't- I know you planned this for a while and I just got stupid and messed it all up."

"You never mess anything up."

"Yeah, well, if that were true maybe we wouldn't have to have our- maybe we could go out in public and do stuff," Steve stared at the rather plain wall in front of him, shaking his head slowly. "I'm trying, Rich, I am. I just… you say to be patient, but I'm not really sure why. Like, usually when you are waiting for something you know when that thing will happen, but I feel like I'm being patient here for nothing. I'm not supposed to force you to do anything, I know, but it's just- it's been two years. And I just… I'm in pain, and I could have- I'm stuck here in the hospital and I can't even hold my boyfriend's hand, y'know?"

"I just don't know the right way to say these things, bo," Richie whispered, glancing over to see a doctor walk past their room. "I get out there on that stage and I just… those people are so happy to see me. And I know how shitty that sounds, just- they're happy to see the fake me. I just… I don't know if they would be happy to see the real me. I don't know if anyone would be happy to see the real me. And I've- I've tried to get better, I'm okay with who I am, but it's hard to know if everyone will feel that way."

"Not everyone is going to love you, though. That's just," he shrugged, turning his head to look over at the taller man in the chair, "life."

"I know that, I do, but I just… I need a little more time. Ben and Beverly are getting married in a few months, maybe I can- maybe I can just try and sort of go slow with this. Just tell friends and then work my way up to everyone."

Nodding, Steve smiled as he reached up to fix his hair. "That's- I think that's a good idea. I forget sometimes that you're such a public guy, I should… I'm- thank you. For trying."

Richie smiled softly, standing up and patting Steve's hand. "I, uh… I think I'm going to find a vending machine or something. You're probably- do you want anything?"

"Would they have chicken sandwiches?"

Laughing, Richie turned towards the hallway, shaking his head. "I'll get you a soda or something, dumbass. 'Chicken sandwiches'… you're ridiculous."

"But you love it," he winked, chuckling softly to himself.

"I will neither confirm nor deny that accusation."


	4. Those Old Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rather extensive look at Steve's time at Lonnie's house and the things he'd learned while there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very special shout-outs to the wonderful @gaybullies and @thoughtfullyyoungduck on tumblr for being the absolute best beta readers a writer could ask for! Thank you guys so much for your help on this obnoxiously long chapter. :)

Steve was not really sure of what to expect, walking up to this oddly nice house in this oddly nice neighborhood. Of course, all odds were pointing to the person living here being a nice person, but he still wasn't holding his breath on that one.

He hated this feeling that plagued him, this feeling that he was running away from Richie and towards someone- anyone- else as a distraction. Steve wasn't new to the idea of breaking up with someone; he's done that many, many times in college, but he loathed the fact that this one felt different, as if it wasn't really a breakup at all. He tried to tell himself it was because of the timing, of the location, of the circumstances, of anything. Anything to tell himself that this was not different. That this was just any other breakup.

Still, walking on the sidewalk up to this house felt too similar to walking on that dirt path away from Richie. Though, he wasn't exactly crying this time. The memories flooding back was the same, of course.

Walking away from Richie, to Steve, was probably one of the hardest things he'd done. He told himself it was because it wasn't really a planned thing- and Steve prided himself on planning for everything- but that didn't exactly stop those emotions from overwhelming him. As Steve walked away from Richie, he could almost feel their entire relationship falling apart, as if every little moment now meant nothing ( _Did it ever mean anything?_ ). Every time Richie had picked him up and spun him around, despite his giggle-filled protest to stop; every time Steve would shove Richie into their pool, trying so hard not to laugh when Richie would resurface silently shaking his head; every time Richie would look over at him when he tried to sleep, the purest smile on his face despite neither of them doing anything at all. Steve tried to shake his head, tried to shake away these memories that were shouting, screaming at him to turn back, to stop, to stay.

The one he couldn't shake no matter how hard he forced it away, oddly enough, was the memory of their first date. Well, it wasn't their actual first date, that had happened in 2011 and it went so poorly that neither of them really thought of it as anything more than just a nice dinner. It was awkward, they were awkward; Steve couldn't get over the age difference while Richie felt sick halfway through the meal- or, at least, that's all he had told Steve. Their real first date, the thing that started off this two-year-long moment in Steve's life, was a bit simpler. Memories of that flooded back into Steve's panic-riddled mind as he sat down in the car; the way Richie was able to find a store open that late was still beyond both of them. Being so noble, Richie had pushed the younger man through the store as he sat in the shopping cart, mostly due to his injured leg (though also somewhat due to him daring Richie to); of course, Richie bumping into the different shelves and nearly knocking down the display of soda cans wasn't part of the dare, though they had both laughed through that nonetheless. They ended up baking Steve's favorite oatmeal cookies (Richie had insisted they add in chocolate chips, though) and renting an old movie and that was that. Whether anything else had happened that night was something Steve wasn't exactly comfortable sharing; to be fair, he wasn't even comfortable remembering that day at all. Not that the date itself was uncomfortable- it wasn't, of course- but he simply didn't know how to feel about those memories anymore.

Even today, the tumultuous day after, now that their relationship wasn't exactly a relationship anymore, Steve struggled to figure out what to do with all of those memories. Whether to pack them away like old yearbooks and Hanukkah decorations up in the attic of his mind or to toss them away as quickly as he would the thought of what he had for breakfast last week, he didn't know. He hated that he didn't know. It should not be this hard.

Relieving him of these thoughts, Steve looked up to see a very familiar man sitting on the stairs leading to the porch of the oddly nice house, and wasn't too surprised when the man stood up with a rather large smile on his face and walked over to him quickly, giving him a large hug before Steve could do so much as give him a small wave.

"Holy shit, dude, you got your ears pierced!"

"It's- you're hugging me," Steve attempted to say, though it came out strained due to the rather tight hug.

"Sorry, sorry, I forgot. You're not big on that stuff," he laughed, taking a step back and smiling. "Stevie likes his personal space, of course. You look exactly the same, by the way. Maybe half an inch taller?"

"Yeah, yeah- it's good to see you too, Lonnie," Steve smiled softly, looking up at the taller man. Lonnie also looked the same from what Steve had remembered, right down to his blonde wavy hair (though it was a bit darker than he remembered). Well, apart from the glasses, of course.

"You wear glasses now?" Steve asked as Lonnie turned back up to the house, gesturing for Steve to follow. "You used to make fun of me for that."

"Oh, no, I just- I was trying to rehearse for a bit, this character wears glasses so I have to get used to that and make it look natural since I have never worn glasses before," he laughed. "Apart from, like, sunglasses. And those make people look _more_ cool, unlike these dumb things."

"I think you look fine," Steve shrugged as he pulled the suitcases up the short set of stairs, thanking Lonnie as he held the door open for him.

"Hey, Koko, can you give me a hand?" Lonnie called out, turning back to look at Steve with a bright smile. "Welcome to Casa de la Byrne!"

"Koko?" Steve asked as he looked around, noticing the clutter in the kitchen and on the dining table. Setting his suitcases near the table, he turned when he heard a voice, confusion growing on his face when a small child entered the room.

"Now that you're here, could you put these bags over in the guest room?" Lonnie asked the small boy, pouting dramatically as the kid shook his head, sighing loudly as he walked over to the suitcases. "When you're done, I can make you an ice cream cone, 'kay?"

"I'm sorry, I- you have a kid?"

Laughing, Lonnie pulled out a chair of the table and sat down on it, pulling off his glasses and setting them down on a thick stack of papers. "Oh, no, I just have some random kid living here. Of course I have a kid- if we're being specific, I have two. Koko- sorry, _Kyle-_ is five, and my little one Sylvie is two. Well, technically, I have three kids- it'll be three in January. Pregnancy is weird."

Nodding, Steve stood another minute before sitting down next to Lonnie. "I never really expected you to be the type to have kids, I mean… you never really mentioned that sort of thing."

"Life's weird like that, I guess," Lonnie smiled, taking out his phone and answering a text. "It's been, what, ten- fifteen years? God, I can't believe it's been that long. I'm, well, you can see," he held up his hand, showing off a dull silver ring. "I'm married and stuff- kids and pets. All of those things I never really thought much about. But it's cool, things are pretty good."

"You have pets?" Steve laughed, shaking his head. "You hate dogs. Well, you're scared of them, anyway."

"Oh, we have a cat. It's more my wife's cat than mine, but she's still a cool little thing. Miki's her name and hiding under furniture is her game."

Silently, Steve nodded his head, trying to make sense of the situation he found himself in. He had found Lonnie on Twitter, of all places, and hadn't really expected much from him. Maybe he was married- probably divorced- so it was hard to process so many things at once. Lonnie never came off as someone who wanted that white picket fence and the wife and kids; never being anything close to someone who would imagine that life, Lonnie's current life wasn't anything that Steve would have thought from him. Not to say that his life wasn't a good one, of course, as he looked at how happy Lonnie was looking at the pictures of his family on the wall.

"I'm sorry, I just- this is- how is this your life?"

"What do you mean?" Lonnie asked, tilting his head a bit in confusion.

"Like… you're out there surprised that I got my ears pierced, while you have kids and a wife and you're like an actual actor and stuff. Earrings don't really come anywhere close to that."

"Life's just been super crazy for me, I guess. I wasn't really in a huge rush to do all of this stuff, like, life is just life. Things just happened when they happened for me, I guess."

"I just feel like I missed so much, you know? All of this happened," he gestured vaguely around him," and I just- I guess I want to know how all of this happened."

"Oh, that's easy," Lonnie smiled. "You've always been good at listening, right? 'Cause this is a pretty long story."

* * *

For what he was hearing, Steve had learned that Lonnie's life hadn't been exactly as unique as he might have originally thought. College was relatively normal for Lonnie (from what Steve had been told, anyway), with Lonnie saying the most memorable thing from those four years was his three-year relationship with a music major who was originally from Australia though didn't retain the accent. "Arthur had the best smile," Lonnie had said. "His teeth were super crooked, but, you know, he was a pretty great kisser, so I didn't mind."

Also during college was when Lonnie had met his mom, which he recalled as a surreal experience: "She does love me, so you were right about that one," he told Steve with a smile. He said she visited them a few times a year, mostly because she still lived in San Diego and it is a bit of a drive up to San Francisco. Pointing to a picture of him and his mom on the wall, Lonnie laughed about how different they looked next to each other. "Yeah, I definitely did not get my blonde hair from her." Lonnie also mentioned he had met a very pretty woman once when he was on the bus to visit his mom after work; her name was Lily and she was rather lost, trying to get to the airport in time for her flight to Japan.

Of course, Lonnie went on to describe how he ended up marrying this beautiful woman five years later, and that it was funny how Steve came along now while she was in Japan visiting her grandmother with their younger daughter Sylvie. Lonnie also mentioned that Koko wasn't actually their son's name- his name was Kyle- though Koko was what they usually called him. Kyle was not on this trip to Japan due to him starting school next week (Lonnie mentioned him being five years old, though he liked to act as if he was much older than that) while Sylvie wasn't old enough to start school, thus her going on the visit with her mother. "Japan is a super cool place, by the way. I've been there twice now, I think? I haven't been to Tokyo yet, though- Lil's family lives pretty far north of there."

Career-wise, Lonnie said things have been a little slow at the moment, though he loves working when he can. He spoke of his wife with great respect, though Lonnie had laughed it off as being a legal obligation due to her currently being a lawyer and "soon to be the best judge that California's ever seen," when she gained enough experience. Of his own career, Lonnie said he liked to work on a stage more than on a screen, though he reasoned this mostly because he'd only worked on a small handful of television series and commercials. "It's not exactly been what I imagined, but I do love working with all of those people who are able to put together something super cool in such a short amount of time," Lonnie recalled fondly.

"I guess- I don't know, I don't really think of my life as being this big thing," he shrugged, laughing when Steve simply shook his head. "What? I mean, it's just a lot of small stuff."

"It's just not what I expected, I think. When we were- I don't know, I think I just- it's a lot," Steve chuckled, turning to look out of the window at the quiet sidewalk in front of Lonnie's house.

"Well, from what I hear, your life has been pretty ridiculous too, Covall," Lonnie smiled, standing up and walking over to the kitchen. "I mean, you've been practically everywhere in this country, right?"

"Oh, uh… I don't think we've been to Alaska yet. Or Maine, but that's just- we group some states together. We're probably going to pick Alaska up on the Canadian tour in the spring," he commented, not entirely surprised that Lonnie had been keeping up with his life. Well, his career, anyway. Well, _Richie's_ career.

"Alaska sounds amazing," Lonnie returned to the table, handing Steve a small glass of lemonade. "Even if I hate the snow, I imagine it's a really beautiful place to visit. Kinda romantic too, if you ask me."

Turning back to look at his taller friend, Steve scoffed, shaking his head as he took a sip of the lemonade. "Richie Tozier is about as romantic as a bag of shit. Plus, he's, you know, as straight as they come."

"Oh, that's funny," he laughed, pointing at Steve. "You know, when I first heard him talk about you in one of his shows- St. Louis, I think- I didn't think he was talking about, well, _you_. Anyway, so I dived down the rabbit hole on that one, and apparently you have been working with this guy for, what, eight years?"

"Nine years, I think. It was my senior year of college, I was just- why?" Steve asked, a small and somewhat nervous smile appearing on his face as he sat the glass down on the table. "I mean, like, where are you going with this?"

"Let's just say, you know, maybe it wasn't the smartest idea to go on a podcast the day after a party and mention the fact that- at this party- he made out with someone in a bathroom that he also coincidentally met his future manager- you- at," Lonnie said, glancing down towards Steve's right shoulder. "And _especially_ don't mention that the 'girl' he made out with has a triangle-shaped birthmark on her collarbone. You know, in case someone else happens to know this 'girl.'"

"I don't- that must be a coincidence, then," he shook his head, trying to force down the heat that he felt rising in his cheeks. "He talked to a lot of girls at that party, I'm guessing. It was a St. Patrick's Day party, so, you know, I don't- it's hard to remember this girl specifically."

Lonnie hummed, standing up to walk into the kitchen once again. "For a party that was nine years ago, you sure do remember a lot. I mean, I know I wouldn't even remember anything about it- unless, of course, I happened to do some majorly important stuff."

"We're just friends, Lonnie," Steve took a sip of his lemonade, staring around at the messy house in front of him. "God, you're starting to sound like my mother."

"You are one tough nut to crack, there, Covall," he laughed, cursing softly to himself as he dropped the container of ice cream on the floor. "It had to have been you, dude. No one else in the entire universe has that dumbass birthmark and is as sloppy of a drunk kisser as you are. And, of course, Mr. Tozier would be perfectly fine with saying that on a podcast for the whole world to hear because even he knows that the odds of someone who knows you that well listening to that podcast is basically zero." Lonnie excused himself as he disappeared down the hallway, returning without the vanilla ice cream cone that he had given to Kyle. Determination on his face, he placed his hands on the table, looking at Steve who tried desperately to look anywhere other than at Lonnie without making it too obvious he was avoiding the conversation. "But you, my friend, are looking at the only person in the world that has beaten those odds. I know the birthmark that you hated so much you kept it covered whenever you could, I know the way you basically shoved your tongue down my throat when you got drunk- not that I ever complained, just saying- I just… I know you. And because I know you, my dear Stephen Daniel Covall, I know that you are lying when you say you and little ol' Richie Tozier are just friends."

"I- I don't need you to tell me who I am, Lonnie," Steve shook his head, knowing he was avoiding the topic of his and Richie's relationship but not caring too much about that. "That didn't work out so well for us last time, and I don't really want to do that again."

"Why are you here, Steve? Why are you in my house?"

"We broke up," he replied softly, looking down at the table. "We are just friends. We broke up. That's- that's why I'm here. I didn't know what else to do and I just- I needed a friend. It hurts and I'm sorry for just- this is stupid. I shouldn't even be here, I'm sorry, I-"

"If you need a friend, then talk to me," Lonnie interrupted, standing back up with a much softer expression growing on his face. "I didn't mean to just- let's go outside, yeah? I- you can talk, and I can listen. If you don't want to, that's okay- I understand. I didn't mean to just force you to say stuff you didn't want to, I was just… I'm sorry."

Shaking his head, Steve continued to stare at the table, unsure of what to do next. "I don't know, Lonnie, I don't- I'm not supposed to say anything."

"He doesn't get to decide that. If- if he doesn't want people knowing he's gay, then fine, but that doesn't really give him the right to control what you can and can't do. He shouldn't even be with someone if he's going to just… it's not fair for him to do that, y'know. I don't know why you put up with that."

"It's just- if I tell you, you can't tell anyone. You know that, right? I know what he did was stupid, but you can't tell anyone anything," Steve sighed, looking up to meet Lonnie's eyes.

"Hey, I get that," he smiled, nodding as he watched the shorter man push out his chair as he finished the glass of lemonade. "I am an actor, after all."

* * *

"You're shitting me, right?" Lonnie turned over on his chair, squinting and looking at Steve, who simply shrugged. "There is absolutely no way any of that actually happened."

"Which part?" Steve asked, feeling rather self-conscious as he sat in the sun in his bathing suit, looking over at Kyle who splashed around in the small plastic kiddie pool on the concrete patio. He had humored the curly-haired child by sitting in the pool with him for a few minutes before feeling oversized in the pool meant for toddlers.

"Well, for starters, the part where you almost died," Lonnie shook his head as he sat up, smiling as he watched his son talk nonsensically to himself. "And, you know, how you say Richie went off to Maine for a month, and when he got back it was like he was a completely different person."

"Oh, I have the scars to prove that little incident, believe me," he commented, gesturing to his stomach vaguely as Lonnie's expression changed to one of wonder as he looked at the jagged scar that stretched from his hip down to his bellybutton. "Oh, you think that's bad- here, hold on," Steve rolled his eyes as he turned around in his chair, using his left hand to point at his right shoulder blade. "This one was probably the worst of it, I think- on my back, anyway. There's a bunch of smaller ones on my lower back but I think this one was because of the initial fall, I must've hit a sharp rock or something on my way down."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Okay with what?" he turned around, tilting his head in confusion as he tried to understand Lonnie's question. "They're just scars, dude. I mean, yeah, I hated them at first, but- I don't know, I keep them covered up, like, all the time."

"I just find it weird that the same Steve that would wear sweaters and dress pants to school is over here showing off his scars like tattoos," Lonnie laughed. "You have your ears pierced and you were in a relationship with a guy for two years that began when you two had a probably disgusting makeout session in some random person's bathroom, like… that's not at all the Steve I remember. You're, like, punk now- it's cool."

"Here we go with the pierced ears again," Steve shook his head as he stood up, moving to sit in a chair under the covered patio. "I was, like, seventeen when I got my ears pierced- and it was mostly just to get back at you because I know you hate pierced ears. Or you used to, anyway. And I'm not punk at all, especially not because I have some scars now. Pretty sure it isn't very punk of someone to slip and fall down a hill on the day they were apparently supposed to be proposed to on."

"Would you have said yes?" Lonnie asked, lying back down and turning onto his stomach. After waiting a moment, he spoke again, believing that Steve must've misunderstood the question. "If he proposed, I mean. What would you have said?"

"I don't know," he shook his head. "I really don't know. Part of me is glad he didn't- I mean, look where we ended up."

"I think you would've said yes. No doubt about that one."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve scoffed, glaring at Lonnie's back as he lay in the sun.

"Well, I mean, you are a bit of a pushover, my guy," he shrugged. "And it's obvious you care about him, so I don't know why you wouldn't marry him."

"I'm not a pushover, dick," rolling his eyes, Steve maintained his glare at Lonnie as he looked up, setting his face on his hands. "Maybe I used to be when I was with you, but I'm different now. I don't do anything unless _I_ want to."

"Is that why you put up with Richie dragging you along for the last two years?"

"I-" he huffed, shaking his head as he squinted at Lonnie. "I put up with it because I loved him."

"No, I think you put up with it because you don't respect yourself. I mean, like you said, you don't like people telling you who you are- I get that- but, like… you just hate that because you like to be in control. That's why you didn't really like me; you're an independent guy. So, Richie comes along and you ignore all the shit he does because at least you are in control- you do all the work in the relationship _and_ at work," Lonnie kept a neutral expression as he spoke, continuing to speak despite the way Steve had been staring at him. "Hey, correct me if I'm wrong, dude. I just think you put up with that shit because, deep down, you like it."

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

"You're not exactly correcting me," Lonnie raised an eyebrow.

"I told you, I put up with it because I loved him. Just like how I put up with the shit _you_ used to do to me."

"You didn't love me," he laughed, putting his head back down. "Even I know that."

"I didn't come here to fight with you, Lonnie," he sighed, looking over at Kyle as he tried to float in the small pool.

"Hey, no, this is interesting," Lonnie looked back up, giving Steve an apologetic smile as he continued. "I minored in psychology, so this is, like, a field day for me."

"Why are you like this?" Steve asked, pulling a face at Lonnie's comment. "You just… you can never take anything seriously."

"Well, what do you want me to do? I don't have some magic wand that I can wave and fix your relationship."

"I don't… I don't want my relationship to be fixed," Steve sighed. "We broke up, like… that's it. There isn't a relationship anymore."

"If I were you, I'd just give it some time. Let him figure out this thing with that Eddie guy by himself," Lonnie shrugged, standing up and walking over to the pool. "And if he doesn't, then, well, he doesn't. It's not your problem anymore."

"Since when did you become a relationship expert?"

"Oh, marriage counseling, dude," he kneeled down, laughing as Kyle splashed him from his spot in the pool. "It works wonders- well, for me, anyway."

"You don't strike me as the type to go to marriage counseling," Steve replied, slightly taken aback at Lonnie's casual admission.

"Well, no one expects people to be experts on how to be married, even when they are married," he shrugged. "Every couple has problems, obviously, but we just- we got lost for a while. But things are good now, we're good." Lonnie turned back to Kyle, smiling as he watched his son. "Just because someone loses their way, it doesn't mean they're lost forever, dude."

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "Thanks, Professor X. Next time you want to give me a motivational speech, maybe don't steal it from a movie."

"Hey, if it works, it works," Lonnie stood up, giving Steve a small smile. "And you don't have to thank me, either. It's always a pleasure talking to you, Stevie."

* * *

Staying with Lonnie was awkward, to say the least. Though he always insisted that it was not a problem, that he was glad to have the company while Lily was on her trip, Steve still felt like he was intruding each time he drank a glass of water or, hell, even when he went to the bathroom. He was rather glad he was able to convince his old friend that he was perfectly fine sleeping on the couch- as opposed to sharing his bed with him- but he still felt as though he should be doing a lot more; or, well, less. Steve always felt like he was doing too much simply by being himself; he knew he was a lot to deal with, but never knew how to go about lessening the blow that he made on people's lives.

Lonnie, however, had the opposite problem, as he had told Steve on one rainy afternoon as the two watched a movie with Kyle, who was the most interested in the movie. "For the longest time, I felt like I wasn't doing enough, y'know? She has this super awesome career and she works so hard- I never felt like I was working as hard as she does. Sometimes she'll work like six days a week or she won't get home until after Koko's in bed and I just- I guess I didn't know how to compete with that? But after we started doing the whole marriage counseling thing, I sort of realized that it's not really a competition. She does her work and I do mine, like, maybe she is gone a lot, but I do a lot of work around the house and make sure I am getting work when I can. It's a weird balance that I didn't really realize we had," he sighed. "I just felt bad because it looked like I wasn't doing anything in comparison- like, I don't have that normal nine-to-five job in a cubicle somewhere. But that's okay, I learned that that's not what all jobs look like and that is okay. Just because I don't have a desk or some dorky tie, it doesn't mean I'm not doing work. Nothing against those stupid-looking ties, of course."

"Oh, of course not," Steve smiled, shaking his head. "I like wearing suits when I work, they make me look more presentable and stuff- I got into that habit when I started working with Richie. I was so young that I thought people wouldn't take me seriously, so I wore the nicest clothes I had until I was able to afford a suit."

"Don't even talk to me about you only wearing nice clothes when you walked in here with that piece of shit jacket," Lonnie chuckled, gesturing to Steve's red jacket that sat on the back of one of the dining chairs. "There's a hole in the pocket, the collar is ripped- like, I know you can afford a better jacket than that."

Steve took a moment to respond as he glanced back at the jacket that he didn't really know whether to call his anymore. "Oh, that was… it's a long story. It's not really my jacket, I just- Richie gave it to me," he looked back at Lonnie, who simply shook his head. "What?"

"What do you mean, it's not yours?" he leaned forward, grabbing his can of soda off of the coffee table. "Are you telling me your rich-ass boyfriend couldn't afford to get you a new jacket?"

"Well, it's more than that- it meant a lot to him," Steve reasoned, biting his lip as he thought. "It was Eddie's, he said. I didn't want to leave it with him, so I took it. He didn't deserve to have that- I left my jacket, but I took Eddie's. It feels stupid and overdramatic but I just… I thought that he should be thinking about me, not him. He had his time with him, and it was supposed to be _our_ time, like, me and him. Not me and him and Eddie."

"No, no, it makes sense," Lonnie nodded, taking a sip from the half-empty can. "You wanted to show him that now he lost you because of the way he couldn't give up on, uh, Eddie."

"I hate that jacket," he said flatly, turning back around to look at it. "It used to be my favorite thing in the world but now I just… I can't stand it."

"Are we still talking about the jacket or are we talking about Richie now?"

"I don't understand," Steve shook his head, still staring at the jacket, mostly out of fear that he'd start bawling if he looked back at Lonnie. "I'm just… if he wanted Eddie, why did he settle on me? He didn't care at all about the parts that were- that are _me_ , he just cared about the parts that reminded him of Eddie."

"You're more than that, you know that," Lonnie replied softly, moving to put a hand on Steve's shoulder as he stood up. "If he doesn't see you for you, then he can go fuck himself."

"You didn't," he muttered, though he continued when he noticed Lonnie turn to look at him. "You didn't deserve me."

"No, I didn't. I really didn't."

"You never let me think for myself, y'know. You just… you knew I didn't have a lot of friends, that I was just the lonely kid that got the shit kicked out of him because he was tired of hiding who he was," Steve said, cursing himself for letting his words sound desperate. "You probably told yourself you were protecting me or some shit, but you were just… what you did was worse."

"I know it sounds like a shitty thing to say, but you can't focus on the past like you do, Steve," he commented seriously. "I'm sorry for what I did- I really, really am- but sometimes you just gotta move on from some things and work to heal from it, y'know? I was a horrible kid but I'm not that person anymore."

"It's hard to get closure when you just packed your shit and moved away the next day like it was nothing," he sighed, trying to will his breath to return to normal. "I spent, what, five years loving you- I thought I loved you."

"Well, we could have talked if you didn't run off. Like I said, dude, I just- thinking about the past too much will eat you up inside."

"You just remind me of Rich, that's all," Steve blinked, turning back to stare blankly at the television. "It's different, I think, but… you spend so much time with someone that you don't notice some things, you ignore things, you put up with things."

"I-" he sighed, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to come up with something- anything- to say. "I have some emails to respond to… can you just watch him for a minute?" Lonnie gestured to Kyle before going upstairs to what Steve could have only guessed would be his bedroom.

 _Don't do it_ , he told himself again. _Stay_.

Standing up, Steve walked over to the dining table, trying to push away those thoughts once more. He grabbed the jacket off the chair, taking a moment to glance over at the small child on the couch that pieced on his small bowl of popcorn as he watched the rather predictable animated movie (then again, it _was_ for children). Staring at the sliding glass door that led to the patio, Steve didn't really know what he wanted to do. Like the rain that was pouring down into Lonnie's small backyard, memories poured into Steve's mind whether he wanted them to or not. Meeting Lonnie, being with Lonnie, leaving Lonnie- all of these things led Steve to do the exact same thing with Richie. With Andrew. With Sam. With Oliver. With Michael.

No matter how many guys he'd been with, no matter how many times he'd tried desperately to avoid thinking of Lonnie, all of it led to him being here. To hear what he heard, to learn harshly that he was the one holding onto the past when he should have been focusing on his future. Being with Lonnie, of course, taught Steve everything. It made him into the person he had become, for better or worse.

Standing there, though, and holding that jacket, Steve didn't know who he was anymore. That memory of that morning- the day Lonnie left- haunted him every time he would look at Richie. That feeling of falling out of love- or whatever feeling it was- with someone he thought he had loved for so long scared him when he was with Richie or the other plethora of guys he had been with (whether he actually dated them or simply had good nights with them, Steve would never care to admit) in college. Guys that, like Steve, were never quite good enough.

Sliding open the door, Steve didn't care about the rain as he walked outside, tossing the jacket into the nearest puddle of mud he saw, watching as the dirt seeped into it as the rain fell down on him, drenching him slowly until he was soaking wet.

"Fuck off!" Steve cried out, not entirely sure of what to feel about what he'd done until he found himself falling onto his knees and scrambling to find the jacket and fix what he had done out of misery.

"What are you doing?" a small voice asked, though Steve simply shook his head in response. Kyle wasn't exactly the most talkative child Steve had met, and he was grateful for that, so he felt guilty for worrying the small boy.

"Can- can you go get Lonnie? Your dad, I mean. Just- whatever," he stammered, thankful when he heard the small boy's footsteps grow faint. Steve tried to ring out the jacket- the key word there, of course, being _tried_ , as it was pouring rain and he just grew more and more frustrated when the jacket remained drenched in muddy water.

"I'm- I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Steve cried, apologizing partly to himself, though mostly to Eddie. He didn't understand why he felt the need to apologize to this figure he had spent the last two years hating. He'd never met Eddie- hell, he'd never even seen a picture of him. Just taking Richie's word that Eddie was a good person and he was so brave and he was one of the most caring people he'd ever met. Story after story, compliment after compliment, it became apparent to Steve that maybe, to Richie, Steve wasn't exactly Steve at all. Just someone that coincidentally filled the Eddie-shaped hole in his heart. And it hurt to know that, to know he wasn't the person Richie wanted. Anyone else would have packed their bags and settled into their new single life long ago, but Steve felt like he deserved it. He'd stuck by Richie for seven years before they had started dating, which was apparently longer than he had even known Eddie. He put up with being put into the closet, he put up with Richie's terrible organizational skills, he put up with Richie's nightmares that would wake the both of them up in the middle of the night. But what eventually broke him was the comparison to one Edward Kaspbrak, because Eddie was the one Richie loved. Eddie was the one Richie wanted to be with. Stephen Covall stood no chance against that, even though he put in the work, he put in everything. But instead of leaving, he stayed. He put up with it because… because…

"Steve? What the fuck are you doing?" Steve heard Lonnie ask, though he wasn't sure when he had joined him outside. He felt Lonnie's hand on his arm, trying to pull him up. "Dude, you can't just- you're going to make yourself sick if you sit out here in the rain."

Steve didn't know when Lonnie was able to coax him to go back into the house, but all he thought about was the jacket that was sitting in the kitchen sink sopping wet. _It's just a jacket_ , he tried to tell himself. _Just a jacket. Just a jacket. Just a jacket._

"I love him," he said softly as he sat next to Lonnie on the couch, both of them covered in towels. He didn't care about the tears that fell, though Lonnie seemed to notice them by the way he put his arm around Steve's shoulder. It had felt like hours had gone by since Lonnie had persuaded Kyle into taking a nap even though, in reality, it had only been about ten minutes.

"I know."

"No, it's… it's different," he said, leaning his head against Lonnie's shoulder. "I just- I hate that it's different, Lonnie. I don't want it to be different."

"I don't- what do you mean?" Lonnie asked, using his other hand to run his fingers through his wet hair. "I don't understand."

"I knew, like- from the moment I met him, I knew." He wiped his face with his hand, staring ahead at the backyard that was still being rained down on. "I tried to ignore it but I just… I didn't want him to be like you. I didn't want to get my heart broken."

"You were the one that broke up with him," Lonnie commented softly, turning his head slightly to watch as Steve continued to cry quietly. "Hey, I'm proud of you for doing that. You realized you were worth more than that, so you got out of there even though you love him."

"I didn't- I didn't know it would hurt this much," he shook his head. "I'd been with so many other guys in college and shit but it just… not even _you_ hurt this much."

"Which makes you even braver, trust me. It's good that you were able to do that- it shows that you're okay with leaving a bad relationship even if you love someone. Even if he wasn't intentionally hurting you, he was, so it's-"

"I don't care, Lonnie, I don't- I don't care how brave I am. I don't fucking feel brave at all. We're… I want to be with him. I love him so fucking much and I can't be with him even though I want to because he's so fucking stubborn and just won't come out already. And I tried- I tried waiting, I tried nudging him to just do it, but he won't do it and I can't stand it," he wiped his tears, thankful when Lonnie stayed silent and started to gently rub his shoulder. "I just… I wanted it to mean something. I wanted to mean something but he just- it's like we meant nothing."

Lonnie sighed as he listened to Steve talk, waiting for him to finish before slowly responding. "You know… when I first met you, I thought you were a total stick in the mud. The way you talked, the way you walked, like, I could just tell you were a prissy little dude. And- hear me out- you became my best friend within the first week of me moving out there. I was scared, y'know. It was hard enough being a gay kid whose parents didn't really want him, but then I had to move from California to Texas and, well, I didn't know what to expect. But, luckily for me, I met this dorky kid on the first day I moved out there 'cause he was my neighbor. And he was always the nicest kid- even if he was a bit naïve and even if he got the shit kicked out of him because he wasn't afraid to be himself. He wasn't afraid to stand up for himself even though there wasn't anyone else like him in that whole shitty town, he wasn't afraid to show up to school with his nails painted 'cause he had two older sisters who loved doing all that stuff with him. That kid was not afraid, and I wanted to be like him so much that I hung around him even though I knew I annoyed the shit out of him," he smiled, glancing over at Steve who stared forward as he listened.

"Even though I knew I annoyed the shit out of this kid, he never told me that I was being too much because he knew what it was like not to feel accepted by others. He went to all of the dumb high school plays even when I only had, like, two lines and all of the boring tennis matches even though I was the worst player on the team. And then we got this crazy job together, and we had the best times, even after I broke my foot that one time. But then I had to make things weird by kissing this dumb kid and then we had the best summer together even though it was super awkward because neither of us had really been with a guy before, but it was okay because it was _us_ , y'know? And- and even when I got really stupid and messed up everything with this guy, he never made me feel like I was a bad person… even when I deserved it. Because this dude was the best- he was the best fucking person in the whole world to a dumb kid like me that was going through life like it was nothing. And I loved him, I really, really loved him. But, of course, life happens, and then you end up with someone completely different but someone you couldn't live without."

"Do- do you ever feel like… I don't know," wiping his face once again, Steve sat up straight, turning to face Lonnie, who looked at him in confusion. "I think- I think I love the wrong person, Lonnie."

"If you love Richie, and if he loves you as much as I think he does, then I think you two will be just fine," Lonnie replied, giving Steve a reassuring smile. "Maybe you could work a bit on having those serious conversations, but I think if you both put in the work, then things will be good again. Relationships are hard- they're not what you see in movies and stuff. Everyone involved needs to put in the work for a relationship to last, but beautiful things can happen when that balance is achieved, y'know?"

"That's not what I meant," he said softly, leaving forward (though not exactly by much) to press his lips against Lonnie's in a rather uncomfortable kiss that neither was expecting, though Steve reached up with both his hands to hold Lonnie's jaw as though it was something he had planned to do.

To say the least, it wasn't a good kiss, but in that weird way, it was. It was everything Steve had wanted to feel- that lack of feeling, that lack of those fireworks or butterflies. Their kiss, which lasted for roughly four seconds, was the absolute opposite of special. Steve's lips were chapped, Lonnie's mouth was obnoxiously dry, but it wasn't exactly a _bad_ kiss; those two, with their history, had never shared anything less than nice kisses, yet this one seemed, well, full of flaws that Steve could not ignore. Still, though, it was still Lonnie, and Lonnie always made Steve do crazy things.

All Steve could focus on was the way he felt. _This is nothing_ , he told himself. Kiss after kiss in college with guy after guy, Steve had slowly started to think that what was wrong was him. With each of those guys, no kiss was anything other than average; for Steve, it would be impossible to rank them based on their ability to kiss, since, well, it all blended together after a while.

Until he met Richie, who wasn't exactly the best kisser in the world (there was an awfully large amount of teeth involved for their first few kisses), but he at least made Steve feel _something_. Even though their sloppy makeout session, Steve could tell this gangly guy, with his hideous hoodie and his even worse sense of humor, was different. Quite frankly, that scared the shit out of him at the time.

But sitting here, on Lonnie's brand-new gray sectional couch, this wasn't what it used to be. This wasn't their parking lot kiss that was essentially just two dorky teenagers in love starting something neither of them was prepared for. This wasn't laying out in a field on a hot summer night, staring up at the stars and ignoring a fast-approaching future. This wasn't holding hands as they made the always terrifying first jump into the pool at Lonnie's friend Wendy's house, Lonnie laughing as he heard Steve squeal when the cold water hit him. This was, well, uncomfortable. And as Lonnie placed his hand on Steve's chest, telling Steve to stop, the full weight of the situation hit Steve as suddenly as the unusually cold water in Wendy Carmichael's parents' pool.

"I'm sorry," Steve whispered after he pulled away, feeling the sense of overwhelming guilt pour over him, even when Lonnie gave him a reassuring smile and reached his hand up to brush away a few stray tears on Steve's cheek with his thumb. "I'm so sorry."

"Why'd you do that?" Lonnie asked in response, his eyes focused on Steve's despite the latter trying everything in his power to avoid looking at him.

"I don't… it's not me," he said, the thoughts in his head coming and going too quickly to register. "Time."

"I don't understand, Steve."

"All that time- in college, like… I was with so many different guys, but nothing was good enough. I thought… I thought it was because I still loved you, but it wasn't- it's not," Steve replied, a small smile appearing on his lips. "It's… it wasn't. I wasn't the problem- they were, of course. We just weren't- God, this is stupid," he shook his head.

"It's not stupid," Lonnie replied, taking a moment to put a bit of distance between the two men on the couch. "Sorry, just- needed to stretch my legs, y'know?"

Steve nodded, taking a breath as he collected his thoughts. "Those guys were just shitty kissers, I think… we weren't really compatible. And I thought it was because I felt things for you, but it was because I just hadn't met the right guy yet. Then some funny guy that hosts a stupid radio show on the weekends sweeps me off my feet at a party and things didn't feel bad anymore. I could- for the first time, I felt like I was right where I was supposed to be. When I was with him, I mean- I could be anywhere in the country, but I never felt like I wasn't at home."

"You really fell hard for him, didn't you?" Lonnie chuckled, standing up and reaching out his hand to grab the towel wrapped around Steve's shoulders. As he walked down the hall to the laundry room, he turned around with an unfamiliarly serious expression on his face. " _Talk to him_ , Steve. You'll feel better, I promise."

* * *

Steve smiled as he walked down the stairs, toying with his phone a bit before placing it in his back pocket. In his other hand, he held a crumpled piece of paper, which he promptly tossed at Lonnie once he was well within his vicinity (though he had tried out for football in high school, Steve wasn't the best at throwing things accurately).

"Someone's in a good mood," Lonnie had commented, picking the paper off the ground and setting it on the coffee table as he folded a small basket of laundry.

"Let's just say this call wasn't exactly the worst," he sighed, sitting down in one of the armchairs and taking a few towels from the basket. "Here, let me help. It's the least I could do."

"Yeah, you've been bumming off my good hospitality for, what, two weeks now? You're absolutely right about helping out," Lonnie chuckled as he paired together a few socks. "I'm kidding, by the way. It's nice having someone here to help out with Koko," he nodded up at the stairs in the direction of Kyle's room. "He's a weird kid- I think he gets that from you."

"Why do you call him that? Koko, I mean- is that a Japanese thing?"

"Oh, uh… I think Lil started calling him that before he was even born," Lonnie furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to recall the memory. "It is sort of a Japanese thing, I guess. His middle name is Koji- that was Lil's dad's name, but we just call him Koko sometimes. Even though he's not exactly a fan of chocolate right now… he's a picky eater."

"He definitely doesn't get that from you," Steve muttered, though loud enough for Lonnie to hear from his position on the couch. "Remember that time you ate my leftover fries out of the garbage can at work?"

"Hey, you're the dumbass for throwing them away- those were perfectly good fries! And from what I remember, Stephen, they were still in the bag. It's not like they touched all the other nasty shit in there."

Steve laughed as he recalled the memory, shaking his head as he sat the folded towels down on the table. "He said he's going to do it."

"I told you so," Lonnie replied in a singsong voice, reaching his hand over to Steve for a high-five. "C'mon, you have to admit my plan wasn't exactly terrible."

"Well, he's probably just still on his high after winning that award," Steve reasoned, reaching over to smack Lonnie's hand lightly. "It's… it's progress, though."

"Some people like Richard there just need a plan and a deadline to get things done. I'm surprised it took you this long to figure that out- he's a _comedian_ , Stephen. All artists are the worst when it comes to getting things done on time unless there's a strict deadline."

"He said next week- well, we'll talk about it," he waved his hand, dismissing the topic before continuing. "It wasn't just that, I think. We just… I realized we never really talked about this stuff before. I thought about it pretty much constantly, but I never really talked to him about it- when I tried, though, he wasn't really in the mood. Even before we dated, I would ask him about it, and he never really had a good answer as to why he wasn't already out, like, it even confused _him_ sometimes. Then the whole thing in Maine happened and things got worse for a while, but then things got a lot better."

Lonnie hummed in response, setting the basket of folded laundry on the coffee table. "Do you know what happened in Maine?"

"He still won't talk to me about it, no," he shook his head, jumping a bit when he felt Lonnie's cat brush against his leg from under the chair. "Geez, you should really teach her to quit that- one of these days it's going to be an actual demon or something and you'll just think it's your cat but it's already too late _'cause_ _your leg's gone_."

"She's more scared of you than you are of her, dude," Lonnie laughed, watching as the white ball of fur shuffled into a comfortable position. "She doesn't do that all the time… at night, she's been mostly okay. Except for this night, apparently."

"Well, it's still creepy," Steve shook his head, bringing up his legs and crossing them in front of him. "And weird, too- did you teach her that?"

"Cats just do what they want, I think," he said, yawning as he watched Miki poke her head out from under the chair. "Speaking of weird, I talked to Lil this morning, Mr. Homewrecker."

"She did not call me that," Steve replied, though it sounded more of a question when he said it.

"No, no- I'm sure she'll want to have a word with you, though," Lonnie smiled. "I'm joking, dude- took me forever to explain everything to her, but she seems cool with you being here and making out with me and all of that."

"I did not make out with you."

"I've talked about you before, too, so I think she understands. She's seen all of those embarrassing yearbook pictures. When all of this is over, you and Richie should come and visit- I'm sure you'd love Lil, she's the best. And Richie and I can laugh about how dumb you are and how gross your birthmark is."

"My birthmark is not _gross_ , it's- it's a birthmark. It's just, like, a big freckle," Steve rolled his eyes, though smiled when he heard Lonnie laugh. "And _I_ am definitely not gross. I pride myself on always being the cleanest person in any room I'm in."

"Well, fine, then we can talk about the other _explicitly_ non-gross things about you," he winked, causing Steve to roll his eyes once again. "Hey, you dated the guy for _two years_. It only took me, like, four months of dating to get to sexy times."

"Oh my God- _do not_ call it that," Steve replied flatly, reaching up to cover his face with his hand out of embarrassment. "Especially since there was _absolutely_ _nothing_ sexy about it."

"Right, of course not," Lonnie nodded, frowning a bit as he continued. "So… have you two figured out a plan yet?"

* * *

One of the best things about staying with Lonnie, Steve had realized within the first week, was the ability to simply be himself now that Lonnie knew about his relationship- well, _past_ relationship- with Richie. Even though that was really only one part of his life, he felt better knowing he could have those late-night talks with Lonnie about it if he needed to. He didn't have to hide with Lonnie, he never had.

Even when they were in the presence of an impressionable five-year-old child, Lonnie and Steve weren't exactly afraid to go out and explore and experience new things; eating gross food at terrible convenience stores at ridiculously late hours, fighting at the grocery store over the best type of milk (even though Steve was severely allergic to almonds, Lonnie would still argue that almond milk was superior to its dairy counterpart), and sitting under a big shady tree while Kyle played at the neighborhood park were some of the highlights of Steve's stay with Lonnie even though they were rather simple things. Steve didn't need some big fantastical experience to realize the things he could do in life, he had learned, but, rather, it was the small things he might have taken for granted that were the things that gave him the feeling of freedom he wanted.

Halfway through the third and final week, however, was the most eventful and the most profound; though it was terrifying, the thought of what had happened actually happening at all, it still made him smile as he sat on the beach while Lonnie was trying to apply sunscreen on Kyle, who tried desperately to squirm out of his father's grasp.

"You know, you _could_ help me a bit," Lonnie said flatly, looking over at Steve who shrugged in response. "Or, you know, I could just yell your name and let everyone know you are here. God, I can't believe all it takes is one picture for you to suddenly become, like, the world's most famous dude."

"Hey, just let me enjoy the fact that Richie is, as of ten thirty-seven this morning, not in the closet anymore," he smirked, raising up his sunglasses to reapply sunscreen to his face. "Only took him forty-three years, but… you could at least pretend to be proud of him."

"And _you_ could at least pretend that you're not making this about yourself," Lonnie muttered, glancing back at the paler man in the sand. "Hey, don't deny it- I know it was the whole reason you broke up with him, but it was _his_ decision to do this. Speaking of that, you guys aren't even together anymore, so I'm not sure why you're so happy about it."

Per Lonnie's request, Steve had been trying to better his communication with Richie, though it was less than ideal to do that over phone calls that only sometimes ended well. It was even Lonnie's idea to rip off the band-aid and simply ask when Richie wanted to come out since he understood Steve's frustration of waiting for something that seemingly would never come.

"I want to do it, I do, but I think I just don't know how," Richie had said calmly. And after a rather lengthy phone call last night discussing ideas on how exactly for Richie to go about telling the world that he's not as straight as he claimed to be for years and years, a plan was formed. While Richie wasn't too comfortable with just going out and saying the words "I'm gay," which Steve fully supported, for the time being, he wasn't completely against the idea of showing his non-straightness in other ways.

So, at ten thirty-seven on this sunny day, the picture was posted and neither of them looked back. Steve was unsure of being branded as the star of Richie's coming out- even if it wasn't completely inaccurate to say so- but as the comments rolled in, that uncertainty quickly turned into something calmer. He had made sure it was a modest photo, of course, even if he didn't have a shirt on in the particular photo that Richie had chosen; it was still his favorite picture of him and Richie, taken by Richie last summer outside next to their pool. In the photo, Richie had his face pressed against Steve's cheekbone in a kiss that Steve remembered today as being rather uncomfortable but not unpleasant. Though Richie posting that picture itself to his Instagram was surprising enough (there was always a voice in the back of Steve's head that told him Richie would never be able to come out), it was the short caption that made him smile; Richie, never exactly being the best with words, had completed his act of bravery by pairing the photo with the words "Love this guy," and- the pompous ass he was- included an emoji of a rainbow for those who simply couldn't get the picture.

Steve sighed as he readjusted his sunglasses, laying back down on the towel as he thought of what to say next. "When someone like Richie comes out, Lonnie, it's not… it's a lot more than just him, y'know? Like, a lot of kids are going to hear this stuff that might need to hear it. Kids like… like us that didn't know any other gay people, so we thought something was wrong with us. I know that coming out for him is a really personal thing and I'm glad _he_ was finally able to make that decision himself, but it is a lot more than that."

"What's next then?" Lonnie asked, though Steve could guess that it was a rhetorical question as he stood up and helped Kyle put on his lifejacket. "I mean, yeah, this is what you wanted, right?"

"He didn't do it for me, Lonnie. He wanted to do this because- because he thought that it was just time. Sometimes you just want to do something because you've had your time doing one thing and you want to do something else. He's had his time in the closet and he thought it was time to get out of that place and just start his life. Rich told me that he was scared to do it because he was too old, like there really wasn't a point in doing it now. There's never a wrong time to decide when to start living as yourself, I think. You just… you do it," he replied, taking a breath before continuing. "I don't care if Richie doesn't want to be with me. We had our time together and I am grateful for that. Maybe I just wasn't meant to end up with him, but that doesn't mean that I couldn't help him with this- that I can't still be there for him. We work together, we're friends. Love is strange, the way you're able to just fall so deeply in love with someone one day and then the next day you find someone else."

"You say you'd be fine if you don't end up with him, but is that what you want?"

"I didn't exactly want you to leave, either, but that's just- that's life. You taught me that- and I know that- but because you left, I ended up with Richie. Maybe this is just one part of my life and now I can move onto the next part- maybe Rich and I were just meant to be friends. Who- who knows, Lonnie?" Steve gestured to the ocean in front of them. "There's this huge world out there, and I'm… I'm fine with exploring it. With my friend."

"You two weren't meant to just be friends," Lonnie said softly, giving Steve a sympathetic smile. "I can… I can see it on your face, the way you feel about him. I thought you were being stupid before, the way you always are, but… you're crazy about him. I agree, love is strange and dumb sometimes, but it can also be great. Once you're able to just accept the fact that you're in love with someone, it can… it can lead to some pretty great things," he smiled as he looked down at his son before fixing a loose strand of the small child's dark hair.

"I never expected you to be the one to go soft, Lonnie," Steve laughed. "Then again, I never really expected to end up here, either, so…"

"But you are here, my dear Stephen, which is the best thing," Lonnie held out his hand for Steve to grab, waving his fingers around as he waited. "C'mon, let's go swimming."

"I think I'll pass, thanks. I'll just relax here."

"I promise that you won't be eaten by a shark," Lonnie pouted, though he returned his arm to his side, nonetheless.

"Oh, well, when you put it that way," he rolled his eyes, reaching his hand up to Lonnie. "Fine, I will have _one hour_ of fun with you."

"I knew I'd win you over eventually," Lonnie smiled. "Just like old times, right?"

* * *

Steve knew it would be strange, going back home. Eventually (three days after his and Lonnie's beach trip, to be exact), though, he did realize that he would have to go back to Chicago eventually, even if it did mean having to face Richie after everything that had happened over the past few weeks. Though, as he stood by the door waiting for Lonnie to take him to the airport, he realized that maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all.

"You know, I could have just called a cab or something," he told Lonnie as he put on his shoes. "You've done enough for me already, like… you're being obnoxiously nice at this point."

"You can never be too nice, Stevie," Lonnie replied, walking back down the hallway once his rather squeaky shoes had been placed on his feet. He returned a minute later, handing Steve his jacket. "Speaking of which, I fixed your ugly-ass coat for you. Try not to completely destroy it, or else I will charge you next time. My rates are not cheap."

"Oh, thank you," Steve smiled as he folded the jacket over his arm. "Not just for the coat, either. Just… thank you for being- you're different, y'know? Like… this isn't the Lonnie I remember, but it's still you."

Lonnie shrugged as he grabbed his car keys off the table and called out for his son, who waltzed out of the kitchen with a small plastic cup of juice. "People can change, Steve. Maybe not entirely, of course, but… we can all become better people if we try to."

"You should really think about becoming a philosopher, you know. Even if you are a moron ninety-nine percent of the time, you do have your moments."

Lonnie gave him a sarcastic laugh as they walked out of the door, which did feel a bit strange to Steve; he had spent so much time at Lonnie's house that he wasn't really sure of how it would feel going back home and sleeping in his own bed. Even if it would be a bit awkward figuring out this whole situation with Richie, Steve wasn't completely afraid of it; like people, he reasoned, situations can become better too if people worked for them to be.

Though it wasn't exactly the best goodbye as Lonnie dropped Steve off at the airport, they did manage to give each other some semblance of a hug in the car after Steve retrieved his bags from the trunk.

"Promise to visit, alright? And be sure to tell me how everything goes when you get back home, 'kay?"

"Yes, yes- geez, _Mom_ , can I go now? You're going to make me miss my flight at this rate."

"Alright, fine," Lonnie laughed, giving Steve a wink as he stepped back on the sidewalk. "Go get 'em, tiger."

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me over on Tumblr - @kenzie-ann27
> 
> Or say hi to Richie and Steve on my ask blog! It's a ship that's too small to sail - @ask-covier


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